


meddling little constellations

by caeos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, tropey as hell baby!!, we're here for a good time!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-03-06 12:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18851011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caeos/pseuds/caeos
Summary: "He, Oikawa, he’s moving away. We both are, to different universities in a few months time. Do you think I’ll stop feeling like this when he’s gone?”Iwaizumi pondered that for a second, the way he felt about Oikawa…stopping.“Can I tell you a secret?”The stars waited.“I don’t want to fall out of love.”With the end of high school rapidly approaching, Oikawa and Iwaizumi struggle with the idea of leaving everything they've known behind... and, well, a little cosmic intervention never hurt anybody.





	1. i want to believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back on my iwaoi bullshit B)  
> i continue to be bad at summaries and titles, rip, it's hard to explain my weird niche premises lmao  
> aliens! volleyball! angst! we've got it all!  
> please enjoy though~

IIwaizumi didn’t _fret_ , regardless of what Oikawa tried to tell him, but even he could concede he was facing a particularly worrying conundrum.  
  
It wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with himself… or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself around two years ago, not that he was keeping track or anything.  
  
He’d fretted over this particular dilemma until his brow was furrowed so deep in thought that it gave him a headache.  
Oikawa had offered his glasses to ease the strain but they hadn’t lessened the headache _or_ solved his problem.  
  
So it seemed he was on his own for this one.  
  
Or maybe not.  
  
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed, jabbing a finger in a particularly deep crease in Iwaizumi’s forehead. “If you keep scowling like that your face will get stuck that way.”  
  
“I’m thinking,” Iwaizumi replied gruffly, not unfurling from his spot.  
  
They were sat in Oikawa’s room after a particularly gruelling practice, homework long forgotten on Oikawa’s floor in favour of scouring Oikawa’s DVD collection from the safety of his bed. Neither of them were in a hurry to peel themselves of the mattress any time soon.  
  
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Oikawa hummed, scanning over the spines of his boxsets. “Should I be worried?”  
  
Iwaizumi threw a pillow at him.  
  
“Some of us use our brains outside of volleyball,” Iwaizumi countered, sticking his leg out to trip Oikawa as he extracted himself from the bed - he yelped and rolled seamlessly out of the fall.  
  
“Mean!” Oikawa bit back, pulling Pacific Rim off from its place on the shelf - skipping the usual argument over aliens vs Big Monster.  
  
“It’s nothing you can fix,” Iwaizumi huffed, eyes screwed tightly shut as he rolled onto his back.  
  
“Well how do I know that if you don’t tell me?” Oikawa asked, prying the arm Iwaizumi slung over his eyes out of the way. “Unless I’m the problem?” He added with a grin.  
  
“Oikawa...” Iwaizumi sighed, looking up at his friend.  
  
His cheeks were ruddy, the exertion from today’s practise not quite worked out of his system, and he was smiling - one of those wide, toothy smiles with no ulterior motive behind it.  
  
It was so similar to how he’d looked as a child, and yet so different.  
Maybe it was just the way Iwaizumi had been looking at him.  
  
“You’re always the problem,” Iwaizumi finished, making Oikawa’s boyish charm crumble in on itself and make way for the sly, flirtatious side that had come with age.  
Although, as Iwaizumi was fast learning, he didn’t particularly mind that side either.  
  
Oikawa huffed, falling flat against the bed beside him as the movie started up in the background.  
  
“Hey, Hajime,” Iwaizumi tensed reflexively, Oikawa usually reserved his given name for serious conversations.  
Like when he’d first injured his knee and called Iwaizumi from the hospital or after their first loss with Shiratorizawa or even when he came out - but mostly he remembers the first day they met as children.  
  
Iwaizumi had presented Oikawa with the finest cicada he’d been able to capture, learning very quickly that Oikawa was deathly afraid of them resulting in an ensuing carnage that ended in a lot of blood, sweat, tears and the mutual loss of their far left incisor.  
  
The next day Oikawa had presented him with a rock that he had named Hajime, it had been an act of friendship - even if Iwaizumi had read it as an insult and tossed the stone into a pond he then had to fish it out of - one that had cemented their continued partnership.  
  
All this to say that throughout their friendship Oikawa had grown very fond of Iwaizumi’s nickname, reserving Hajime for more tactile, heartfelt moments - like now, apparently.  
  
“Whenever I’m stressed about something…” Oikawa said slowly, tips of his ears flushed red. “I’ll ask the aliens.”  
  
_Okay_ , not quite the profound conversation Iwaizumi had been expecting.  
  
“What? Like prayer?” Iwaizumi snorted in reply.  
  
“No, not like prayer,” Oikawa slapped his arm lightly. “It’s like a diary but without the physical evidence. That way the problem isn’t just your problem anymore.”  
  
“That’s…” _dammit, that was actually a nice sentiment_. “Stupid.”  
  
“You’re stupid!” Oikawa retorted weakly.  
  
“Only one of us tries to commune with little green men, Shittykawa.”  
  
And just like that the conversation was over, that tension in Iwaizumi’s brow lessening a little at Oikawa’s admission as they both settled in - a disarray of tangled limbs - to watch the film.

***

It was 01:04- wait, 01:05.  
Iwaizumi was wide awake, watching the minutes on his digital clock tick by, no closer to sleep than he had been two hours ago.  
  
All because of his stupid _conundrum_.  
  
It wasn’t a big deal, really! It certainly had never caused him to lose sleep before.  
At this point Iwaizumi was concerned that his brain knew something he didn’t.  
  
Reluctantly, he pulled himself out from under the covers, cracked the window and poked his head out to look up at the night sky above.  
  
Oikawa had always been jealous of his attic bedroom, whenever he slept over he’d pull his futon to lie beneath the roof window and look up at the stars above.  
  
Tonight the sky was perfectly clear, the only clouds were the ones Iwaizumi’s was breathing into the night time chill.  
Huffing in annoyance, Iwaizumi pulled himself up to cross his arms on the window frame.  
  
_This was stupid._  
  
“H-hey aliens,” Iwaizumi stammered in a voice quiet enough to not wake his parents. “Hey, aliens.” he said, more confidence this time, finding some comfort at the lack of response.  
  
“I… don’t know if you’re real. But my friend believes in you,” Iwaizumi piped up. “And he’s not a _complete_ idiot.”  
  
This was more moronic than anticipated, what was he hoping for? A response?  
  
“Maybe you know him? His name’s Oikawa Tooru, Grand King to some, he’s our volleyball captain and general shithead,” Iwaizumi laughed, he didn’t think he’d ever use shithead as a term of endearment until he met Oikawa. “He’s my best friend.”  
  
The stars twinkled on, silently.  
  
“...Hey, aliens? How’d you know when you’re in love with someone?”  
  
A red light flashed overhead, a plane noiselessly crossing the sky above him. But decidedly _not_ an alien.  
  
“Like I understand butterflies and shit like that,” Iwaizumi said quickly, reminding himself how childish he felt with his phrasing.  
But really how else could he describe it? The fluttering in his stomach whenever Oikawa was in his presence.  
  
“But how do I know if one day it’s all just going to stop? What if I _know_ one day it will?  
He, Oikawa, he’s moving away. We both are, to different universities in a few months time. Do you think I’ll stop feeling like this when he’s gone?”  
  
Iwaizumi pondered that for a second, the way he felt about Oikawa… _stopping_.  
  
“Can I tell you a secret?”  
  
The stars waited.  
  
“I don’t want to fall out of love.”  
  
And they seemed to shine all the brighter, though Iwaizumi knew it was just a trick of the light.  
  
“When we’re on the court we become greater than the sum of our two wholes - he’s always looking up to the sky for something incredible, I don’t have to, I just look at him.”  
He laughed, there were tears in his eyes, he ignored them - that and how his throat was closing up around his words.  
  
“I don’t know if I can do this without him… so, I know you’re not real, aliens. But- but if you are, can you look after him for me, _please?_ ”  
  
A shooting star passed overhead - then a second and third - no alien craft, just some space debris burning up on the entry into earth’s atmosphere.  
Not as extravagant as Oikawa wanted it to be but Iwaizumi thought that this was pretty cool too.  
  
***

“You look tired,” Oikawa noted, meeting Iwaizumi at the end of his driveway for the walk to school as per usual.  
  
“You’re no oil painting yourself,” Iwaizumi said through a yawn.  
  
He hadn’t been lying, there were bags under Oikawa’s eyes that were near perfect copies of his own.  
  
“There was a meteor shower last night, I stayed up to watch,” Oikawa explained, smiling contentedly despite his weariness.  
  
“Yeah? What’d you wish for?”  
  
Iwaizumi wasn’t above wishing on shooting stars.  
In his books he either had remarkably good luck or owed a lot of his life to burned up meteors - too many of their nights together as children were spent discussing what wish they were saving for the next star.  
The only one they’d never given up to fate was to beat Shiratorizawa, if they won it’d be on their own merit, not some cosmic intervention.  
  
“I wished for whatever had been bothering you to disappear,” Oikawa made a _poofing_ motion with his hands.  
  
“I thought you weren’t meant to tell your wishes or they wouldn’t come true,” Iwaizumi teased, soothing that ache that told him not all problems could be wished away on stars.  
  
“Silly Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed in mock exasperation, pushing a finger into the centre of Iwaizumi’s brow. “It already has.”  
  
It took him a moment for his brain to catch up as Oikawa withdrew his hand.  
Until he realised the ache in his teeth from clenching his jaw was gone, along with the headache.  
  
For the first time in a long while his brow was unmarred by any grimace, he was perfectly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talking at the stars is good for your heart, don't @ me.  
> comments and kudos are very much appreciated, i really hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!!  
> 


	2. green eyed monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa makes a revelation - Makki and Mattsun help.

Oikawa was sulking.  
  
The feeling in his gut sulked with him.  
  
There was something festering in Oikawa, he was holding off calling it an alien impregnation until further investigation, but it always flared up around Iwaizumi nowadays.  
  
Because Oikawa was attuned with Iwaizumi in a way that only years of exposure to one another could achieve.  
It was like strumming a guitar with a loosened string, it may sound fine to untrained ears but Oikawa could always pick out the bum note.  
Right now, Iwaizumi was an untuned guitar, playing as if the notes weren’t falling flat and Oikawa didn’t know _why_.  
  
Oikawa prided himself on knowing everything going on around him, not with any malicious intent, he just enjoyed knowing the most about every given situation. It was an endearing quirk.  
  
But it had always been a _given_ that he knew the most about Iwaizumi.  
  
Never in a controlling way, Oikawa just knew Iwaizumi’s ticks like the back of his hand - given that he was the cause of them on many occasions.  
He knew just the buttons to press to arm Iwaizumi and the exact distance to retreat to avoid it exploding back in his face.  
It was a talent of sorts, a mutual give and take that had been established since childhood.  
Now the only person who knew more than him was shutting him out: Iwaizumi himself.  
  
Naturally he had to turn to the only people who knew more than either of them.

“Hey guys, me again,” Oikawa began, laying out a blanket on the grass as he looked up to the stars. “This one’s a big ask so stay with me.”  
  
He sat crossed-legged in his own garden, head turned heavenward towards a clear night sky.  
  
This wasn’t his first time talking with the aliens, some wishes he saved for the stars and some he saved for them.  
  
Before Iwaizumi, he always wanted to believe he had someone looking out for him, when no one else would offer their ears Oikawa would whisper his troubles to the void of space - perhaps not the most conventional imaginary friend but it was cheaper than therapy.  
  
“I got an offer for a university in Tokyo, their volleyball team has the most graduates to go on playing internationally.” The stars shined with him. “But I have offers closer to home too, one of Iwa-chan’s choices as well.  
I don’t want to follow him… but it’s always been a given that we’d be partners, we’ve trained harder than anyone to stay on the court together. We don’t have long left.”  
  
It was something Oikawa knew was weighing on Iwaizumi, that’s why he didn’t understand why Iwaizumi was shutting him out _now_.  
They didn’t have years left together, they had months, weeks, _days._  
Oikawa was already preemptively missing him and Iwaizumi didn’t seem to care. It was like Oikawa had become a bad smell, something Iwaizumi couldn’t wait to be rid of.  
  
Oikawa wouldn’t throw away his future, his career, for a _boy_ … and yet it scared him how tempting that alternative was.  
  
Because Iwaizumi wasn’t just a boy, he was his best friend.  
  
“I’m not a good person,” Oikawa began, fiddling with his hands anxiously. “But I’m friends with someone I believe is something truly - pardon the phrase - out of this world,” he sighed. “I need a sign, guys. Something more than a meteor shower this time.”  
  
The stars shone on, unmoved.  
  
“I need _help_.” It was almost a sob, Oikawa trained it in, putting on that calm facade even here. “ _He_ needs help… and I don’t know what to do. You can’t comprehend what he means to me, I love-” Oikawa cut himself off, head falling limp, away from an ambivalent sky. “He’s my best friend.”  
  
He was split in two over this decision and he couldn’t handle it, not on his own.  
  
A plane passed overhead, there wasn’t a meteor shower forecast for tonight but it was close enough - enough to remind him that perhaps, no matter the distance, he wasn’t on his own at all.  
  
***

Two people rivalled Iwaizumi in 'Oikawa exposure', save for Oikawa’s own family, and fortunately for everyone they weren’t quite as oblivious as their vice captain.  
  
Which is why Hanamaki and Matsukawa took pity on their setter and decided to put an end to his brooding.  
  
“What’s got our captain looking so blue?” Makki hummed, leaning back on the bench beside Oikawa - stepping out of their team practice for just a moment.  
  
“So much so that he’s put himself in time out,” Mattsun finished, perching himself on Oikawa's opposing side.  
  
“Nothing,” Oikawa replied, putting on a chipper facade as he watched Iwaizumi walk Kindaichi through a jump serve. “Just enjoying the view.”  
  
_Ah, Iwa-chan problems_ , the duo communed through meaningful eye contact.  
  
“So you’ve talked to Iwaizumi about your offer from Tokyo, right?” Mattsun prompted.  
  
Oikawa faltered. “Not yet.”  
  
“Oikawa,” Makki groaned, exasperated. “You have to tell him.”  
  
“But he’ll want me to go,” Oikawa whined, burying his face into his hands.  
  
“Exactly,” Makki retorted in the same drawn out tone.  
  
“It’s not that,” he said, defeated, chin falling limply into his awaiting palms. “I’ve just never had to be without him before and…”  
  
Iwaizumi brought Kunimi over, manually manoeuvring his arms to correct his form before making both first years run the drill again.  
  
“He’s not going to have you around all the time,” Mattsun finished, looking wide eyed at Hanamaki.  
  
“And you’re worried that when you’re gone…”  
  
There was no point trying to hide anything from these two, they were like bloodhounds for misery. “I’d be easily replaced.”  
  
“... And what do your little green friends think about this?” Mattsun said, eyebrow cocked, evidently entertained.  
  
“I told you about that in a moment of weakness and I’ve been regretting it ever since,” Oikawa huffed, squishing his cheeks harder between his hands which only enhanced his pout. “I don’t think this is something the aliens can fix.”  
  
“So what are the symptoms?” Makki asked, sitting up straight and adjusting a pair of imaginary glasses.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Come on, you only ever step out of practice when you’re sick, so what’s rattling about that rickety, old body of yours?”  
  
_Rude_. “I don’t know, it’s just-” he huffed again, frustrated. “It’s like… a caffeine high every time I’m around Iwa-chan. My hands- they don’t shake but they _buzz_ like I’m excited for something and I don’t know what.”  
  
“Go on,” Makki prompted, miming making notes as Matsukawa looked on at the scene, amused.  
  
“My stomach hits the floor every time he talks, especially when he drops his voice,” Oikawa added, lowering his tone to match Iwaizumi’s Serious Voice. “And I’m just hot and sweaty all the time, even when we’re not in practise.”  
  
“And what about when he’s not around?” Mattsun began, gesturing over to Iwaizumi who was now directing the first years from his position on the floor, leaning his back up against Kyoutani’s to push him down into his stretches. “What about now?”  
  
“I’m still hot and sweaty-”  
  
“Yes we get it, you’re slimy and gross.”  
  
“But it’s like someone’s got a hand in my gut and is _twisting_. My heart’s pounding so loud I can hear blood rushing in my ears. I think I’m angry? Frustrated?” Oikawa wailed, fisting his hands in his hair. “What’s wrong with me?!”  
  
Makki aimed his knowing smirk at Mattsun who seemed to catch on just as quickly.  
  
“ _You_ have a green eyed monster,” Makki stated, grinning smugly.  
  
“Green eyed-? I told you this had nothing to do with aliens!” Oikawa protested.  
  
“He means you’re jealous,” Mattsun clarified. “That Iwaizumi doesn’t orbit around you anymore.”  
  
“He’s never orbited around me,” Oikawa argued, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s not my sun, moon or any of my stars!”  
  
“...Except he is.” Mattsun finished, raising his eyebrows expectantly and waiting for the penny to drop.  
  
Except he _was_.  
  
When they were on the court he’d push those feelings to the back on his mind, Iwaizumi was just another player, he had to be.  
  
But it still guided his subconscious, when Oikawa was in a tough spot he’d toss to Iwaizumi believing he’d get through no matter what.  
That’s how it had always been, that complete and utter faith in one another.  
And that’s what was going to be taken from him in a few months time.  
  
Because, sure, Hanamaki and Matsukawa could sense despair from a mile away but one hint of _pining_ and it was like blood in the water.  
  
“Oh my god,” Oikawa said, jaw dropping to the floor. “I have a crush on Iwa-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know what author in my childhood i have to blame for me using apostrophes as speech marks but i'm trying to knock that habit now lmao  
> comments and kudos v much appreciated, thank you!!  
> 


	3. an offer from tokyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa does some thinking. Iwaizumi wishes on a star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i should clarify that this is set in vague canon some time around the spring play-offs, just for context.  
> enjoy~

Armed with the new revelation of his _crush,_  Oikawa… did very little.  
  
Every brush of fingers as their arms swung side by side on the way into school or wandering languidly about the corridors set Oikawa’s heart on fire.  
Like the pulling of string, a _tug, tug, tug_ that Oikawa could never quite catch - always jerked just out of his reach.  
  
He’d never had his world turned so thoroughly upside down.  
  
Love was something new to him, something foreign that he was still trying to translate.  
  
He _loved_ space in a way that made his chest feel full, he liked feeling so small yet so meticulously planned. That all of time, every speck of stardust, it had all led to him.  
Not that he believed the world revolved around himself but it was pretty incredible that he got to exist at all, never mind at the same time as Hajime.  
Something beyond fate, that meant perhaps _chance_ was really that benevolent.  
  
And he _loved_ his friends and teammates like he did his family - like their heartbeats all pulsed the same rhythm.  
That perhaps whatever stardust they were made from had been a constellation at some point.  
  
Iwaizumi fit into that category - a family, a home.  
  
Was _that_ love?  
  
Because that’s not what he’d felt with all the people he’d dated. Perhaps that had been infatuation. Then again that didn’t sit right either.  
  
Some of those relationships were meaningful, they were _good_ , but there was no joy to be found in those memories anymore.  
They were tainted, coffee-stained polaroids. Whatever happy memories they may have once depicted were distorted beyond recognition.  
  
Maybe they were just lessons to be learned whilst Oikawa was still young and careless with his heart.  
They were a temporary high - a sugar buzz, an adrenaline rush.  
  
Iwaizumi didn’t feel like that.  
  
He was a constant warmth under the skin, fingers breaking the tension of a lake, a cool breeze in summer, warm covers in winter. The small things you take for granted.  
  
Was _that_ love?  
  
...Did he take his best friend for granted?  
  
All this thinking was making his head hurt, he thought being pretty was meant to make all this dating bullshit easier.  
Now he was just hot and alone.  
And pining.  
  
Oikawa Tooru was _pining_.  
  
Because there was something profound in their relationship that didn’t need words but Oikawa could wax-poetic about his best friend's aesthetic appeal for days.  
Especially on the court.  
  
Oikawa was attractive, he’d noticed himself at the start of his teen years and dug himself out of a rut of self worth issues.  
  
But then other people had noticed. Which was _nice_.  
  
And it had made Iwaizumi jealous… which was _curious._  
Especially when Oikawa realised he couldn't tell who Iwaizumi was jealous of: Oikawa himself or the girls who so easily grabbed his attention?  
  
But Oikawa didn’t enjoy Iwaizumi’s suffering, though he believed there’s something in everyone that’s validated by a little jealousy. Especially from a person whose opinion genuinely matters to him.  
  
Back then, in the summer of their first year, with balmed pride and smattering of adoring fangirls at his side he’d noticed:  _whoa_ , _Iwaizumi’s eyes look green in this light._  
  
And it had all gone downhill from there.  
  
So here he was, sat on the bench ( _again_ ) staring at Iwaizumi ( _again_ ).  
  
Now this sensation in his insides was more common. A deep pool in his gut, thick and sweet like molasses - making him sluggish, like his heart was taking off but the beating against his ribcage was laboured.  
Where he felt as though he were moving in slow motion, his body was buzzing like there was popping candy beneath the skin.  
  
He wanted touch - whether from Iwaizumi or himself, he wasn’t fussy at this point.  
  
There was something messy wrapped inside the candy-coated feelings for his best friend - something hot and needy that was clawing from within.  
  
But Oikawa wasn’t an _animal_ , which is why he wasn’t currently nuzzling up against Iwaizumi like a cat, no matter how much his brain told him that’d be a _great_ idea.  
  
From head to toe, Oikawa just wanted to _devour_ him. The way his mouth hung open, panting in breaths, tongue licking over his already slick lips.  
Iwaizumi was wound tight like a spring, a predator about to pounce - the tension in his legs, muscles moving beneath tanned skin as he dashed about the court, visceral and raw.  
  
When he jumped Oikawa sucked in breath and with each spike it was ripped from his lungs, watching Iwaizumi's arm carve down through the air and hit the ball so hard it shuddered.  
Like Oikawa's _heart_ , his _legs_ , his _gut_.  
  
It made his head spin just watching him, the pool in his stomach churning up harsh waves that sent his heart aflutter and rolled his eyes back into his skull.  
  
Which is probably what made him so easy to sneak up on.  
  
“You just going to sit there and look pretty or are you actually gonna play, captain?” Iwaizumi laughed, pulling up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.  
Oikawa nearly jumped out of the skin that had moments earlier been _begging_  for such an interaction.  
  
Iwaizumi's torso was gleaming under the harsh gymnasium lights, sweat trailing between his pecs and following a path to mingle with his dark happy trail - shorts hanging low enough off his hipbones to be considered a dress code violation. Oikawa would be mindful to report it as soon as it felt as though his legs weren't about to collapse from beneath him at the sight.  
  
That animalistic feeling tucked its tail between its legs and _ran_ \- because _thinking_ about Iwaizumi was one thing but actually interacting with him was another.  
  
“So mean to me, Iwa-chan, I’m just stretching,” Oikawa said, feigning innocence as he kicked a leg out and leaned across to touch his toes, hoping Iwaizumi didn't notice the tremble in his fingertips.  
  
“Like hell you were,” Iwaizumi scoffed, pulling his shirt over Oikawa’s head and ignoring his yelp of protest.  
  
Oikawa reminded his dumbass brain that licking his way up Iwaizumi’s navel was, in fact, _not_ acceptable public behaviour.  
And yet part of him - probably the side pressed firmly against Iwaizumi’s built abdomen - still argued: _it’d be worth it_.  
But before he could even process _that_ particular thought, Iwaizumi released him from his sweaty enclosure.  
  
“There you are, I worked up a sweat _for_ you,” Iwaizumi teased, looking at Oikawa’s blotchy and glistening face as he sat himself down on the bench beside him.  
  
Oh _fuck_ this guy.  
  
Oikawa threw a leg over Iwaizumi’s thighs and settled himself down on his lap - a movement so fluid it could almost be described as _casual,_ not that Oikawa made a habit of straddling his teammates.  
  
“W-what are you-”  
  
“It’s _your_ sweat, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cooed, smiling in a way that was almost maniacal - Iwaizumi should have seen this coming to be fair, this was not exactly part of his skincare routine. “You can have it back.”  
  
He pulled Iwaizumi’s jersey up, bunching it up beneath his arms and tugging the man himself along with it as he wiped his face down with the material - Iwaizumi doing little but flush deep red as he watched.  
  
“Get a room!” Makki called from across the gym, gaining the pair’s attention and flipping them off, a gesture that they returned in kind - Mattsun hopping in so his bro wasn’t outnumbered.  
  
“Shut up!” Oikawa retorted, turning his attention from their teammates to slide his fingers - cool and featherlight - over Iwaizumi's shoulders and sling his arms about his neck. “Your captains are just having a private chat.”  
  
Iwaizumi seemed unsure where to look but with a big eyeful of Oikawa he wasn’t exactly spoiled for choice, preoccupying himself with becoming exceedingly interested in a loose thread on Oikawa’s shoulder, hands still held up as if in surrender.  
Although, as the air settled between them he held Oikawa’s eye, cocking his head after only a second - maybe less.  
Oikawa felt the dynamic shift, Iwaizumi’s hands resting hot and steady over Oikawa’s hips, forearms pillowed on his thighs.  
  
“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi asked, accusing almost, seemingly over his initial embarrassment.  
  
Oikawa huffed, because Iwaizumi could always read him like a fucking open book.  
  
Because Oikawa wanted _this_ , the concept of _this_.  
Something hazy and distant because he was two chapters ahead of their story, dog-earing the pieces he liked and skipping over the real shit they had to deal with.  
  
Letting his head fall against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, he huffed again - running it from the top, this time with _feeling._  
  
How did he smell so damn good? Even after an hour or so of practice, this had to be some freaky pheromone shit.  
Iwaizumi never smelled good, he decided whether to wear his clothes by sniffing them, he wore the same jeans for weeks before even considering washing them - he _frebreezed_ his damn _socks!_  
  
Not that Oikawa minded that now apparently, burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing deeply, a sigh mostly.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asked, hands up at his shoulders, holding him in a light embrace.  
  
Oikawa nearly sobbed but held it back, worried what would come out with the flood.  
  
“Hey, Iwa-chan,” he began, pushing himself upright. “I got an offer from Tokyo.”

***

_An offer from Tokyo_. Iwaizumi hadn’t had to ask where, Oikawa had an eye on this particular university for years - especially when he thought Iwaizumi wasn’t looking.  
It would be incredible for him, Iwaizumi was awash with pride.  
  
Now if only someone could tell that to the knot in Iwaizumi’s stomach.  
  
He _was_ happy, but that small voice deep down kept saying, deadpan and smug:  _no you’re not._  
  
_So fucking what?_ Iwaizumi countered, brow furrowing as he argued with himself. It didn’t matter how _he_ felt about it, this was Oikawa’s future, not his.  
  
Yet… he’d always had this idea - buried at the back of his mind next to his childhood firsts and treasured memories - that they’d always be one and the same.  
  
Fuck this, talking to himself was getting him nowhere.  
  
Once again the sky was perfectly clear as Iwaizumi cracked his roof window and pulled himself up far enough to huff hot air into the cold night sky.  
  
“Hello again… aliens,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Guess who?” He laughed humorlessly, the dark sky offered no response.  
  
“I reckon Oikawa’s spent hours talking to you guys. I’d say you have no idea how many sleepless nights he’s spent looking at the stars but if you are real that I’m sure you already know.” Iwaizumi looked up, angry at even the stability of the sky - constellations uniform and fucking perfect.  
  
“So I’d say you _owe_ him,” he growled, staring down the biggest and brightest star like he could snuff it out. “You look out for him when I can’t. When the world doesn’t deserve him then give him the rest of the fucking galaxy, 'cause I sure fucking can’t.”  
  
A shooting star passed overhead, he had a wish - just one. Not fate changing, not interfering, just one small ask from a wide, wide world - surely they could spare just one?  
The star fizzled out in shades of green, a question left hanging in the air: _what do you wish for Iwaizumi Hajime?_  
  
To beat Karasuno. To stay on the court with his team, his Oikawa, for one game longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i evidently don't know how to count which is why there's been a shift in the total number of chapters - i'm but a simple dumbass.  
> update coming tomorrow!  
> if you have the time please leave a comment, you have no idea how much it brightens my day, even if it's short and sweet!!


	4. any port in a storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to get some use out of that light angst tag~

Thunder rumbled overhead, the perfect cover for Iwaizumi as he crept downstairs and let himself out into the back garden.  
The rain wasn’t unbearable and he was too numb to process the biting cold.  
Though he could feel the water from his over-saturated lawn seeping through his slippers, making each footstep squelch.  
  
He couldn’t see the stars at all on a night like this, but seeing those heartless bundles of gas staring him down in ambivalence would have only stoked the fire in his gut.  
This time he didn’t care that he was lacking an audience, it was probably better that way.  
  
“You better be fucking listening,” Iwaizumi snarled, wiping the back of his hand across his nose.  
  
There was no response.  
  
Iwaizumi looked upwards, waiting for a shift in the clouds, a crack of thunder, a beam of fucking green light for all he cared. _Something_.  
  
“I hope you’re proud of yourselves, I hope I’m a fucking comedy show on your planet,” Iwaizumi snapped, arms outstretched at his sides as he addressed the sky. “Because I certainly feel like a fucking joke.”  
  
The silence was deafening, like he’d scared the storm clean off - even the rain seemed to fall with caution.  
  
“You bastards took everything from me!”  
  
He took off one of his slippers and threw it skyward, watching it arc and slap down feebly at the end of the garden.  
  
Shrieking into his palms, he kicked at the ground, swinging water and mud into the air. Fists clenched in a white-knuckled grip as he tried to find a physical release from the surge of emotion.  
His jaw was clenched so tightly he felt as though his teeth were going to be ground to dust, there was an angry rush of blood in his ears as he snarled out his frustrations.  
  
“One wish,” Iwaizumi panted, falling limp onto his knees - though it was a miracle they hadn't buckled hours earlier. “I just needed one more.”  
  
He was sobbing now, eyes stinging, unable to stop the flow of tears that escaped down his cheeks.  
They'd _lost_. Aoba Johsai _defeated_ by once flightless crows - their flourishing garden unearthed like sticks and weeds rooted in failure.   
  
“Our season wasn’t meant to end here,” Iwaizumi choked out in gasping breaths. “We were meant to stay together… on the court.”  
  
Panting, he felt all the saliva, snot and tears that stained his face be washed away as he shifted his head heavenward.  
  
He’d always loved thunderstorms though his mother would never let him go out and play in them.  
After particularly gnarly ones - when Iwaizumi’s mother was at her wits end and couldn’t round up her children any longer - she’d bundle him up in his waterproofs and he’d go out jumping in every muddy puddle he saw, staining himself from head to toe.  
  
He loved thunderstorms, but now he wanted nothing more than silence.  
The oblivion that the stars provided.   
  
It was melodramatic, part of him argued, to have such a fit over one lost match. There’d be others, there would always be others.  
  
But not with them.  
  
Not with _him._  
  
“I don’t care about winning,” Iwaizumi sobbed, wiping his face even though he could no longer distinguish fluid from fluid. He _did_ care, but the aliens didn’t need to know that.  
“I just wanted to play with my _friends_ … just for one game longer.”  
  
And the numbing walls about his mind crumbled, washed aside by a tidal wave of: _this is all your fault._  
  
If only he trained harder, hit harder - if only he had been a dependable ace, not a dependant one - then maybe _you_ wouldn't have _lost_.  
  
“...Iwa-chan?” The voice was so quiet he thought he’d imagined it.  
  
But it was unmistakable, the reflection of brown eyes peering between the gaps in the fence - the one divide between Oikawa’s house and his own.  
  
“Tooru,” he breathed in realisation.  
  
“What are you doing?” He asked as Iwaizumi picked himself up from the ground.  
  
A laugh rumbled through Iwaizumi's chest, Oikawa's hair was sopping wet and dripping down his face, no doubt he’d probably heard most of his outburst. Then again, so had half the neighbourhood.  
  
“I could ask you the same thing.”  
  
“...Today’s just- it’s given me a lot to think about,” Oikawa sighed, leaning his weight against the fence. “Though you seem to have beaten me to it. Talking to the aliens isn’t so stupid now, is it, Iwa-chan?”  
  
“Fuck off,” Iwaizumi laughed, slipping his fingers between the fence and jabbing Oikawa in the stomach, making his heart feel light as that lifeless smile finally reached his eyes. “I admit it has some advantages.”  
  
“Never a response though,” Oikawa said, distracted, pushing his fingers between the same slats as Iwaizumi.  
  
“Huh, I’d consider that a positive,” Iwaizumi replied, following Oikawa’s eyeline to the sky. The storm was moving on, clouds parting to reveal the stars ahead.  
  
“Maybe,” Oikawa agreed, fingers curling about Iwaizumi’s before he could retract his hand. His fingers were ice cold, any other time and he'd tell him to get the fuck inside but Iwaizumi had never been one for hypocrisy. “But I still have questions, I guess…”  
  
Any other contact would have set Iwaizumi’s heart alight but this touch was something embedded deep in nostalgia, as children when they’d take each other's hands and pull themselves head first into their own little adventures.  
Invincible and unafraid.  
What Iwaizumi wouldn't give to be even _one_ of those things right now.   
  
“Like what?” Iwaizumi asked, in a voice so soft he wasn’t sure if Oikawa had heard him.  
  
The man himself was still staring upwards, Iwaizumi was about to repeat himself before he was met with a flurry of words.  
  
“Was this my fault? What do I do now? Do I stay close to home, remain constant and stable or risk everything for a chance at Tokyo?”  
  
“Shoot for the moon and end up amongst the stars, huh?” Iwaizumi teased, resting his forehead to Oikawa’s as much as he could, as though they didn’t have a barricade between them.  
  
“I _am_ one of those stars, Iwa-chan,” he laughed. It was fake, he could tell.  
  
“What else?”  
  
There was another question hanging on inside of Oikawa, sealing up any chance of him moving forward from this. Iwaizumi intended to pry it out of him, whatever it took, no matter what else came tumbling out with the flood.  
  
“What do you mean?” _Fake, fake, fake._  
  
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Tooru,” Iwaizumi said calmly.  
  
Silence.  
  
“Oikawa, tell me.”  
  
“I’m thinking that it’s cold,” Oikawa began, not a lie but a diversion nonetheless. “I’m thinking that your hands are clammy as hell and you should really wash those pyjamas before they stain.”  
And after a pause.  
“I’m thinking about the future.”  
  
“Whose?”  
  
“Ours.”  
  
Another silence fell over them, the storm rattling on in the distance as Oikawa’s laboured breaths filled the air between them.  
  
“I’m thinking about _you._ ”  
  
There were no words, nothing he could feel except the combined warmth of their hands, both sharing a held breath.  
Everything felt _heavy_. His muscles, the clothes clinging to them, soaked through, his _heart_. Even the very air around them felt thick and cumbersome.  
Oikawa needed _more_ , a shift in the earth to hold him upright, though he hadn't even realised he'd been leaning in until his lips met the corner of Iwaizumi's mouth.  
  
It wasn’t the great crescendo of a love story he’d been expecting, jagged bits of the fence dug into his cheek as he pressed himself forward into the unexpected kiss.  
But then Iwaizumi shifted his head so their mouth could meet properly and it was the most he’d felt in hours - ever since the whistle at the end of their match.  
  
His hands slipped through the slats as far as they could, fisting in Iwaizumi’s shirt roughly and pulling him in close.  
Iwaizumi’s lips were warm and wet against the damp chill of Oikawa’s skin, tongue swiping over his lower lip as Oikawa tugged insistently on the material in his hands.  
  
Oikawa had girlfriends in middle school but they’d never kissed like this - needy and desperate - they were cute and fun and let him get away with bloody murder.  
No such luck with Iwaizumi, not that Oikawa had ever minded.  
  
Of course he'd had his first heartbreak too - a guy in the first year of high school that made him feel spoilt, that treated him like a _king._  
It was no one’s fault that relationship had turned sour - though Oikawa would probably shoulder the blame.  
They were too young, Oikawa took more than he could give.  
  
The guy had certainly won his heart, but not his _trust_ , which was far more precious.  
  
Now, right now, he’d give Iwaizumi whatever he wanted.  
The sun, the moon, all the stars - leave the world to darkness if he only kept kissing him.  
  
Iwa-chan never wanted material possessions in the way Oikawa did, it was… interesting, was perhaps the word, to _treat_ him. To let him know that he didn’t just deserve the things he _needed_ , but the things he _wanted._  
  
A bit of desire wasn’t shameful.

___

When Oikawa kissed him it felt like the world stopped - or maybe sped up. Like one of those zoetrope things, where the images spun so fast it appeared like seamless movement, a continuous scene.  
Though Iwaizumi could identify each individual frame.  
Number One: It was something done out of passion, overwhelmed, Oikawa hadn’t known what he was doing when he’d kissed him.  _Instinct_ , that's what he called it, wasn't it?

___

Iwaizumi wasn’t moving anymore, what had he done? What the _fuck_ was he thinking? Had he been _thinking_ at all?  
His body had moved of its own accord, pulled into Iwaizumi's orbit like a stray satellite.

___

Number Two: they let it sit, there was water pressed up between them and Iwaizumi didn’t know if it was rain or tears until he could taste the salt of it on his tongue.

___

Oikawa needed an out, something to pull away and laugh at - to pretend that none of this had happened.  
To take themselves back a day earlier and tell himself to not fucking toss to Iwaizumi… like he’d ever listen. _Stubborn bastard._  
Then again, Iwaizumi was a choice he made time and time again, he wasn’t about to start regretting it now… except-

___

Number Three: Oikawa froze, tensing against him as he pulled away.  
Iwaizumi hadn't noticed the cold until Oikawa's warmth was taken away from him.

___

Why was he even out here? For himself or for Hajime? The realisation hit him harder than the downpour:

___

Number Four: they parted and the moment was done.

___

_I love him._

___

Number Five: _This will never work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone knows how to write quickly shifting POVs please hmu lmao.  
> i told myself i'd stagger these chapters more to stop myself from writing around the time of my exams only to realise my exams were much closer than first anticipated - this is real life foreshadowing, wish me luck.  
> thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos are v much appreciated!


	5. waterworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makki drives it home. Iwaizumi has a change of lodgings.

Monday was surreal to say the least. Like when you awake from a nightmare and have to shift through what was real and what your cruel imagination had offered up. Only this time the nightmare _was_ their reality.  
  
Coach had called them all into practice regardless, third years included, he said even though their season may be over they were still expected to take up the slack with the younger years. Revenge would take root early this year.  
  
As expected, all the team were notably subdued - save their captain.  
  
It was business as usual for Oikawa Tooru, _I just didn’t realise that kissing your ace was part of the schedule_ , Iwaizumi thought bitterly.  
  
How about that? He was _mad_ about it. Turns out running drills alongside your best friend was a little different once you knew what their tongue felt like against your own.  
  
Neither of them seemed keen to acknowledge _the kiss_ any time soon - the tension was palpable.  
  
And, in a bizarrely unfortunate occurrence for the team, it wasn’t the romantic tension associated with the two.  
Because Oikawa and Iwaizumi were already kind of an old married couple at eighteen and it was highly amusing - their bickering was a ceaseless background soundtrack to their practises.  
But the faith, the _love_ , they had for each other put the team at ease. They never had to worry about them because they’d always had an eye out for each other, in a way only childhood friends could.  
  
The team didn’t give a shit whether they both realised they had the hots for each other, they would settle for them even acknowledging the other’s existence right now.  
  
“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Iwaizumi overheard, Matsukawa and Hanamaki chest passing a ball between themselves.  
  
“Yeah, look at him.” They both paused and laughed in their own version of discretion (which was blatant disrespect for privacy). “Have you ever seen such a pout? Poor pup.”  
  
“Go talk to him,” Mattsun insisted in a hushed voice.  
  
“No, you,” Makki replied, the ball slamming into the other’s chest.  
  
“He likes you better,” Matsukawa said, matching the same ferocity with his own pass.  
  
“He doesn’t like anybody.” They paused again, sniggering. “Well, _almost_ anybody.”  
  
_These shits really had no regard for social tact._  
  
“And even _his setter_ won’t talk to him,” Makki added, the thrum off their passes becoming amicable again.  
  
“Yeah,” Matsukawa hummed. “He looks like a miserable little shit.”  
  
“Fuck off, I can hear you. Dumbasses” Iwaizumi growled, pulling his laces taut as he re-tied them.  
  
“ _Actually_ we were talking about Kyoutani,” Makki said, gesturing over to their spiker who was slouched over - similarly to Iwaizumi - and visibly brooding. “But now you bring it up…”  
  
They trailed off, taking a seat beside their vice-captain, looking at him expectantly.  
  
“Trouble in paradise?” Makki enquired.  
  
Iwaizumi followed his eyeline. Past the first years practising their serves again, beyond Watari’s diving drills, all the way up a set of long, toned legs, past the jersey and slender fingers splayed out on his chest before being drawn in to a pair of wide brown eyes.  
Oikawa turned his head almost instantly - Iwaizumi let his eyes linger on him a second longer, just enough to see the tips of his ears flush bright red.  
  
“It’s none of your business,” Iwaizumi huffed, going to find a secluded part of the gym to practise and hopefully shake these two off -  _along with his gay thoughts apparently._  
  
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Hanamaki chirped, keeping pace with their ace. “Because you’re not _only_ our friend, you’re our captain.”  
  
“Vice-captain,” Iwaizumi corrected sharply.  
  
“He means that you’re someone the younger years look up to,” Matsukawa interjected, coming up behind him and working his hands into Iwaizumi’s tense shoulders. “Today especially, they don’t need to see you looking so… strained.”  
  
“The fuck do I have to be happy about?” Iwaizumi shook off Matsukawa’s hands and rebounded the ball off the gym wall.  
  
“What?” Makki replied, face contorting into a scowl, squaring his shoulders a little.  
  
“We _lost_ , okay?” Iwaizumi snapped, whipping round on the the two - the rhythmic bouncing of his abandoned volleyball filling the silence that gripped gym.  
  
“We’re still a team-” Matsukawa began, putting a hand to Hanamaki’s back, unsure whether it was a gesture of comfort or to hold him back if things turned ugly.  
  
Iwaizumi huffed out a humourless laugh. “But we’re not! Not any more.”  
  
This time it was Makki’s turn to laugh, stepping out of Matsukawa’s grasp as he looked down on Iwaizumi.  
  
“You don’t mean that,” he exhaled through his teeth, prodding a finger into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “You’re being selfish if you blame yourself for our loss, you of all people should know it’s not one-on-one out there.”  
  
“Makki-”  
  
“No Issei, I’m not letting him turn into some kind of coward who stops being a captain the second it no longer benefits him!”  
  
“I’m not-” Iwaizumi bit back.  
  
“Then act like it!” Makki sighed, stepping back from Iwaizumi, losing the heat in his argument. “We lost. And it fucking blows. But all you’ve _ever_ done is support us, the first years adore you, moron! It’s our job as third-years, as their teammates, to show them how to bounce back from defeat.  
So you can be mad at Oikawa for ignoring you or _whatever_ …” Makki trailed off gesturing to Oikawa who was sat consoling Yahaba, patting between his shoulder blades as the younger setter held back tears. “But at least he’s doing _exactly_ what he should be.”

***

Being scolded by Hanamaki always hurt, he always managed to get to the core of what you were mad at and explain exactly why you were being a jerk about it.  
Sometimes Iwaizumi wished he’d be wrong for once - but he never was, it was part of his charm.  
  
Now he was sat on his own front steps, locked out from the house until his parents got back because he’d forgotten his keys - just a continuation of his string of bad luck - occasionally making eye contact with his neighbour’s ragdoll cat which was lounging on his driveway. Iwaizumi had long since abandoned his attempts to coax her towards him.  
  
Emotions are natural and shouldn’t be suppressed or ignored. At least that’s what Oikawa told him - _fucking hypocrite._  
  
Anger, for example, is something that can fester unseen to others until you explode.  
Iwaizumi was done being mad at Oikawa, what did he want from it? Oikawa to drop to his knees and profess his love? Beg for forgiveness? That wasn’t Oikawa at all and he’d never want anything insincere from him.  
  
Love was equally complicated apparently. Just thinking about Oikawa had him all aflutter, blushing like a damn schoolgirl.  
  
Except that wasn’t _all_ a relationship was, the emotion was there but what about the rest of it?  
They were _committed_ to each other, that was a given, but could Iwaizumi ask the same of him when they were living in two different cities? When they never knew when they’d next see each other?  
  
_Touch_ too, god Iwaizumi wanted nothing more than to touch Oikawa. In small ways, brushing the fringe from his eyes and kissing the raw, red skin on his hands after practice.  
  
...In bigger ways as well, with his hands gripping Oikawa’s thighs; pressing his tongue flat against his index finger and taking it into his mouth down to the knuckle; wrapping a hand just beneath Oikawa’s jaw, fingers cold against the _thrum, thrum_ of his pulse.  
  
_Y’know?_ Iwaizumi thought, crossing his ankles self-consciously as the ragdoll stared on. _Things better thought about in the privacy of his own home._  
  
But there was one thing that played on Iwaizumi’s mind, beyond the reasons why they would never work out, beneath the reasons they would.  
The notion that no matter his own thoughts, his limited knowledge of love, how little he’d considered it until now - it wasn’t his place to make those decisions for the other person.  
  
That’s what kept him at peace. That, outside the limits of his own anxieties, Oikawa could be feeling exactly the same.  
  
The ragdoll rose, Iwaizumi’s interest peaked, reaching a hand out and making little tutting sounds. She stretched, considering his offer, before stalking languidly up the drive towards him.  
  
A car squealed down the street, turning into his drive and pausing long enough for the cat to escape off over the fence - _you win this round, ragdoll_ \- as his mother hopped out from the passenger seat.  
  
“Don’t be mad!” Was the first thing out her mouth so naturally Iwaizumi couldn’t make any promises.  
  
“What have you done?” Iwaizumi drawled as she grabbed her bags from the backseat.  
  
“Nothing!” She insisted, twisting the hand that had previously been ruffling his hair and pulling playfully at the strands. “You’re so cruel to your mother!”  
  
“So what is it?” Iwaizumi asked, standing as his dad finally unlocked the door and looked anxiously to his wife.  
  
“It’s probably better we just show you,” he said sheepishly, leading them into the house.

Now both of his parents were perfectly capable of overreacting - they were _parents_ , it was kind of their job.  
  
Sometimes it was necessary, like when Oikawa was in the hospital and Iwaizumi had stayed at his bedside for so long that he actually passed out in school from exhaustion.  
They’d figured maybe he’d like a lift to the hospital _after_ school in exchange for not staying the night there on school days.  
Other times it was like the instance they’d seen him talking to a girl in the crowd of one of their matches who he’d then invited over for the evening - they’d cleaned the house top to bottom and even attempted setting up a candlelit dinner.  
It wasn’t until the poor girl arrived that Iwaizumi had informed them that he was her _English tutor, idiots._  
  
Though, to their credit, this was not an overreaction.  
  
Iwaizumi’s room was flooded, the ceiling over his wardrobe completely caved in and featuring dark patches of damp in other areas. Anything on the floor was beyond saving as it was saturated with run off water that seeped into the hallway carpet.  
  
“A pipe burst. We saved what we could,” his mother said, rubbing his back sympathetically.  
  
They gestured to his bed. Piled up beyond the reach of the water were his old jerseys, each had a matching set in Oikawa’s own wardrobe.  
They’d snagged his old memory box too, a few childhood plush toys that he’d stored at the base of his closet, and a vague selection of clothes.  
  
“What the _fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi said, mouth agape.  
  
“Language,” his dad scolded.  
  
“I think I earned that one,” Iwaizumi huffed, about to step beyond the soggy threshold before he was tugged back by the shirt.  
  
“Sorry, honey, you can’t go in there. Our usual plumber doesn’t want us touching anything until he can rally the cavalry to help clean this up.” His mother explained, patting him in consolation.  
  
“But my school work’s in there, all my revision too!” Iwaizumi stormed in, instantly regretting not taking off his socks as the water squelched up between his toes.  
  
“Hajime!”  
  
“Oh how are they gonna know? They have it bugged?” Iwaizumi scoffed, piling up the necessities on his bed.  
  
“Fine but stAY OUT OF THE WARDROBE!” His mother exclaimed, wincing as he reached for the door.  
  
“And what am I meant to wear?” Iwaizumi whined, thankful that he’d at least saved his uniform from his other attire’s fate.  
  
“We did save _some_ clothes,” she pointed out.  
  
_Some_ clothes was right, they had a rag-tag assembly of items.  
A denim jacket, not his favourite - it was the one Oikawa had annihilated with cheesy iron-on patches so he’d kept it out of solidarity.  
After a cautionary sniff of the rescued black jeans he was sceptical to whether they were fit to wear in public. And-  
  
“Hey, this isn’t mine,” Iwaizumi commented, fishing the pastel blue hoodie from the pile. “This is Oikawa’s.”  
  
“No, it’s yours. Tooru bought it for you just last month, remember?” His mother said, teetering on the border to his room.  
  
“He bought it knowing I wouldn’t wear it, forget about it, then re-gift it back to him,” Iwaizumi sighed, shaking his head fondly.  
  
“Oh Hajime, Tooru wouldn’t do something so childish,” she tutted, hand on hip.  
  
Humming, Iwaizumi checked the tag inside. “Then why is it a size too big for me?”  
  
An awkward silence fell over his parents as Iwaizumi chuckled, grabbing a sports bag from one of the the untouched corners of the room and packing in all he needed to save from the ever-growing damp.  
  
“I guess it’s the couch for me for a couple of nights then,” Iwaizumi said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.  
  
“Actually,” his father began, nudging his wife forward.  
  
“We thought you might like to stay with Tooru,” she suggested, a curious lilt in her voice.

_Stay with…_

_Tooru._

Admittedly around sixty percent of his wet dreams started off the same way, though given the circumstances he’d consider this more of a wet nightmare.  
Staying with Oikawa wasn’t something completely offhand, they’d done it before. Though that had been when there was less emotional baggage between the two, when Iwaizumi was less inclined to jump his bones at any moment.  
Before the kiss.  
  
“I don’t know, mom,” Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “I don’t even know if he’d _want_ me there.”

***

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cheered, throwing his own front door open hard enough that it nearly swung back and finished him off. “You get to spend a whole week with me! Aren’t you excited?”  
  
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi said with a forced smile as he bustled past his best friend and into his new home for the foreseeable future.  
  
It had been an hour since they’d called Oikawa to let him know Iwaizumi would be coming over and of all the receptions he’d been expecting this certainly wasn’t one of them.  
  
“So glum!” Oikawa whined, pouncing on him from behind and wrapping his arms about his midsection where he _knew_ Iwaizumi was the most ticklish, dislodging most of his bags in the process. “Come on, Iwa-chan, who knows what we’ll get up to.”  
  
His voice was just hot air over the shell of Iwaizumi’s ear and it would take a deaf man to miss the suggestive lilt in his voice.  
This was going to be hell on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i saw two guys about my street having what appeared to be a dire conversation, heads turned to the ground. and at their feet? a single ragdoll cat. this one's for you kitty.  
> comments and kudos are appreciated as always (*´꒳`*)


	6. one man's trash...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi does some spring cleaning, Oikawa drops a pick up line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this angst still count as light? have i been 'light' on the angst?

“Come on, you can put your bags in my room!” Oikawa called, already taking the steps two at a time.  
  
“Chill out, dumbass, I’m only staying here for a few days.” Iwaizumi sighed, nearly stumbling over his feet as Oikawa reappeared, grabbing one of his bag straps and pulling him to the stairs hurriedly.  
  
“I know,” Oikawa replied, unperturbed. “But it’ll probably be our last sleepover before university.”  
  
_Oh._  
  
Oikawa’s back was turned when Iwaizumi entered the room.  
Little had changed since they were young - Oikawa was a creature of habit after all, his bed and drawers were scarcely moved unless they were repainting.  
  
His best setter award was collecting dust on his shelves, reflecting the rays of the setting sun alongside his other sporting and academic awards. A clear trail of his growth in confidence, the belief in his own abilities.  
  
No, not much had changed but the man himself.  
He was taller now, Iwaizumi always had the idea he’d tower over his best friend - the jibes he’d thrown at Oikawa in their youth being returned twofold now the tables had turned.  
It was strange, looking at him now, he wasn’t _soft_ anymore. The baby fat in his cheeks had slimmed out and the blush beneath them faded.  
His hands, once lithe and delicate, were coarse and covered in superficial injuries and scars where scabs had fallen away before their time.  
  
Even though Oikawa had power in his serve, in his playing style, he was still dainty. Musical was probably a better description - and one less likely to get him slapped - or elegant perhaps.  
As much as it pained him to admit it, when he wasn’t lording it up with his fangirls there was something ethereal in Oikawa's natural charm.  
  
Iwaizumi had the passing thought that Oikawa would have made a wonderful dancer, he could grab an audience's attention with one simple extension of his hand and hold it with every purposeful footfall.  
Right now though only Iwaizumi was here to witness him - and Oikawa didn’t have to do anything for him to be utterly enraptured.  
  
“Reminiscing about the past?” Oikawa hummed, amused, as he followed Iwaizumi’s eyeline to his awards. “Don’t go soft on me now, Iwa-chan, it doesn’t suit you.”  
  
“Piss off,” Iwaizumi replied, dropping his bags on the floor. “You sure your mom doesn’t mind me staying?”  
  
Oikawa shrugged. “She never has before. It doesn’t matter either way, my sister’s out of town for the week so she’s looking after Takeru.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to stay here?” Iwaizumi asked, changing out of his uniform for the evening.  
  
“For some reason my mom doesn’t want another kid in the house. I’m not sure why, I was such an angel after all,” he grinned slyly, looking to Iwaizumi from the corner of his eye as he pulled his shirt off over his head.  
“Besides if Takeru was here there wouldn’t be room on the futon,” Oikawa paused, taking Iwaizumi’s shirt from him and folding it, leaning over him to set it down, cheek barely grazing Iwaizumi’s own as he spoke into his ear. “I think we’re both a little big to snuggle under my covers, don’t you agree?”  
  
“Erm y-yeah,” Iwaizumi stammered, pulling ‘his’ rescued hoodie on over his head - anything to put a little distance between them, lest Oikawa see the red rushing up the back of his neck.  
  
The weight of the situation finally slithered under Iwaizumi’s skin. It was just the two of them _alone_ in the house with nothing but the unspoken tension between them to keep them company.  
  
Oikawa snorted the instant he turned around, clapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes scanned over Iwaizumi outfit.  
  
“Well I- I never thought I’d see you wearing _that_ ,” he snorted, biting his lip.  
  
Iwaizumi pushed the oversized sleeves up his arms embarrassed. “Why? Did you have another model in mind?”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oikawa said, wide smile feigning innocence, hand splayed over his chest. “Although it’s flattering that you consider me a _model._ ”  
  
Iwaizumi just huffed, any retort lost to the hot air. "You mind if I use your wardrobe space?" He asked, already opening the door.  
  
“Actually I- wait!” He was cut off by a trash bag falling unceremoniously from the upper shelf and smacking Iwaizumi on the head on its descent.  
  
Usually it would have had Oikawa doubled over in laughter but he wasn’t laughing, in fact he looked positively haunted, his previously untroubled face now as white as a sheet.  
The reason why became clear as Iwaizumi noticed the contents of the bag strewn out on the floor.  
It was pure chance that he recognised it, only because he’d seen the matching set on his bed only an hour or so ago.  
  
Oikawa’s volleyball jerseys.  
  
“You putting these into storage or something?” Iwaizumi said, forcing a laugh as he picked out one jersey in particular - white and blue, emblazoned with a number one.  
  
“It’s not like I can keep them forever.” Oikawa reasoned, turning his back to Iwaizumi to watch the setting sun, or perhaps catch its reflection in the frame of his award, he couldn’t tell. “And I don’t exactly _need_ that one any more.”  
  
“ _Need?_ ” Iwaizumi scoffed, gripping the material tighter in his fist. “So you’re just going to throw it out?”  
  
Oikawa shrugged, Iwaizumi couldn’t see his face, which was probably exactly how Oikawa wanted it to remain.  
  
“Fine,” Iwaizumi said defiantly, crouching down to unzip his bag. “Then _I’ll_ keep it.”  
  
“No I-” Oikawa whirled round.  
_Big mistake_ \- Iwaizumi could see it now, he was splitting at the seams.  
  
“Why not? It’s your _trash_ , right? Why shouldn’t I have it instead?”  
  
Riling up Oikawa was an art not a science, he was the kind of person who needed a bit of push-and-shove to keep him in line. But push too hard and-  
  
The dam broke, tears slipping over Oikawa’s eyes easily as he gasped in laboured breaths and harshly rubbed them away with the sleeve of his sweater. Seemingly caught by surprise at his own reaction.  
  
“Because it’s-” he choked out, instantly overcome by violent sobs once more. Iwaizumi stood patiently, holding out the jersey in the space between them.  
“Because it’s a reminder of my _failure._ ”  
  
He wasn’t finished, it was the only reason Iwaizumi wasn’t slapping him upside the head and reminding him that _haven’t we been over this, asshole?_  
  
Oikawa didn’t like talking through tears, he was a very _vocal_ crier, he felt it made him sound immature when he was trying to make a point and his stupid emotions got in the way.  
Instead Iwaizumi sat them both down on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Oikawa’s hair as he slowly calmed himself down, head pillowed on Iwaizumi’s shoulder - like they were kids all over again.  
When he moved it was only to shrug Iwaizumi off, taking a breath before talking.  
  
“I know that no _one_ person is to blame for a loss,” he exhaled, taking the edge of his jersey into his hands. “But I was your _captain_ , surely the burden of that loss falls hardest on me?”  
  
“And you don’t think I’m feeling exactly the same?” Iwaizumi balled up the material, closing Oikawa’s free hand over the remainder of it.  
“But… if this is a relic of your loss, or whatever, surely it can be a memory of our victories too? Oikawa…” he broke off into laughter, god he must be head over heels for this boy to be admitting this to his face. “You’re one of the best setters I’ve ever seen, it’s my fucking _honour_ to be considered your partner.”  
  
‘Iwa-chan,’ Oikawa said softly, catching Iwaizumi off guard as he wrapped his arms about him tightly. Iwaizumi let him, just this once.  
  
“So don’t throw them away. If not for yourself…’ Iwaizumi trailed off, bringing up a hand to rest between Oikawa’s shoulder blades, finally letting his chin rest gingerly on his shoulder. “For me”

-

 _For me_.  
It snapped Oikawa back to the day prior, before running away, even before the kiss. When he’d pondered: _what do you give to the man who wants nothing?_  
But _this_ , this was something Oikawa could do. Not for himself.  
For _him._

-

“Come on now,” Iwaizumi pried Oikawa off him, ruffling his hair lightly and ignoring his whines of protest. “Thought you didn’t want me going soft?”  
  
Oikawa sighed, hand brushing over the wet patch he’d left on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “It’s not… entirely detestable.”  
  
“Who’ll spoil you when you’re off in Tokyo?” He teased, scratching under Oikawa’s chin mockingly as he stood.  
  
“Hmm, I might just have to pack you away with the rest of my things,” Oikawa hummed, taking Iwaizumi’s hand to haul him onto his feet.  
  
“And where would you put me? In with the flatware or rolled up with your socks?”  
  
“So demeaning to yourself, Iwa-chan!” He turned, smiling openly, but there was something in his eyes - deliberate as they scanned over him. “You’d be in my hand-luggage so I could always keep you by my side.”  
  
And with that Oikawa flounced out the room, the facade of the game between them dropping - along with Iwaizumi’s jaw.  
He stood there, mouth agape, looking to the space where Oikawa had been standing.  
  
_Keep you_ … Iwaizumi felt the heat of his full body blush rush up his neck and across the bridge of his nose, ears burning hot as they glowed bright red… _by my side._  
  
Iwaizumi had heard most of the awful pick-up lines Oikawa rinsed and repeated for his fans, though they’d never been directed _at_ _him_ before.  
Perhaps now he could understand just how they could make someone weak at the knees.  
  
_Or make them fall in love all over again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find on me on tumblr @ [ccaeos](https://ccaeos.tumblr.com/) (yeah i'm not happy about the double c either lmao)  
> it's only a sideblog so i'm not super active but i have a vague tagging system and everything, look at me go~


	7. movie night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just your average movie night...

Oikawa was stood in the kitchen, watching Iwaizumi read over an article about their match with Karasuno, his brow was furrowed and every so often his nose would crinkle in anger. It was adorable really, but best observed from a distance if Oikawa valued his fingers.  
  
“Thanks,” he mumbled distractedly as Oikawa pushed a bowl towards him - some pre-prepped meals from his mother in case he was too worn down to cook after volleyball practice. Perhaps a slight hint that he should get better at adulting before leaving home.  
  
“There’s a good picture of you in there,” Oikawa noted, reading over Iwaizumi’s shoulder.  
  
Iwaizumi hummed again. “Yeah, I guess so.”  
  
Seems this wasn’t the time for some deep, meaningful conversation - about the mixed signals Oikawa was getting for instance, he thought as he flopped down on the couch.  
How just the night before they’d been pulling at each other’s clothes, kissing in the rain like some damn rom-com and now Iwaizumi wouldn’t even look at him.  
  
Not that Oikawa shouldn’t shoulder some of the blame, he remembered how the aftermath of that kiss had gone. After Iwaizumi had paused against him, it had felt like watching a video buffer, as if his emotions were about to catch up with him.  
He’d taken a step away and Oikawa had mirrored him. Whilst his own eyes were blown wide and startled Iwaizumi’s had still been closed, considering.  
But the conclusion wasn’t something Oikawa could bear, he’d bolted before Iwaizumi had the chance to spot him - maybe he’d think it was a dream, an illusion, if he was lucky.  
Quite the magic trick - _poof!_ There goes the best friend that just ruined a decade old friendship in favour of _one stupid kiss._  
  
Then… well, then Iwaizumi had held his jersey like it meant something. Like he _gave a damn_. Not as a symbol of Seijoh, not even of Oikawa’s own accomplishments, but of their partnership.  
  
Their _continued_ partnership.  
  
Because when he’d cried on his shoulder Iwaizumi hadn’t pushed him away, only held him tighter, like he could pull his shattered pieces back together.  
Oikawa recalled how gently Iwaizumi had touched him, it was almost enough to convince him that maybe - just maybe - Iwaizumi could feel the same way about him.  
  
A shuffling sound snapped him from his thoughts, followed by a slapping at his shoulder.  
  
“There’s a good one of you there too,” Iwaizumi commented, still thoroughly distracted - though this time by his phone - as he handed Oikawa the magazine.  
  
_Fuck me senseless_ , this _was_ a good picture.  
  
But _‘good picture’_ usually meant something you’d show to your grandmother, like hover-handing your prom date to show what a gentleman you were.  
_Sex?! Mother, I don’t even know her!_ Y’know? that kind of thing.  
  
But this was a _great_ picture.  
  
Oikawa with his head reclined, sweaty and dishevelled, mouth hanging open with his tongue just poking over his wet, pink lips. Water trailed down his chin and onward down his neck as he’d been pulling his water bottle away from his mouth.  
  
He looked hot.  
  
He blushed, which was becoming a more common occurrence. Oikawa Tooru didn’t blush because he was never caught off guard, no compliment or catcall surprised him.  
  
Until now.  
  
Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was handsome, he’d stopped disputing as much around their second year of high school.  
It was like saying the sun never set or the stars didn’t shine - or aliens didn't exist.   
Oikawa had returned the favour in kind - _sure you’re handsome Iwa-chan… if you’re into the brutish type.  
_  
Iwaizumi could have slapped the pretty out of him with how agitated he had been. _Totally worth it_. It just wasn’t them if they weren’t pulling at each other’s pigtails.  
  
But Iwaizumi had never called him _hot_ before.  
  
Because ' _hot_ ' usually entailed going beyond a vanilla kiss with a fence in between to keep their hands off each other. And the thought of going _beyond_ that nearly had that blood rush working its way south.  
  
Oikawa looked over the top of the magazine at Iwaizumi who was scrolling absentmindedly through his phone - oblivious as ever.  
  
“So what do you want to do tonight?” Iwaizumi asked, eyes not straying from the screen as he smothered a laugh.  
  
“I didn’t have anything planned, why’d you ask?” Oikawa asked, getting his own phone out to figure out what was so damn funny.  
  
“It’s Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi explained, finally noticing Oikawa’s unattended pout. “Yahaba’s got him dressed like a damn toddler.” He sniggered at his spiker’s unapproachable expression looking utterly out of place, contrasted with the denim dungarees he’d clearly been wrangled into.  
  
“Those are Yahaba’s clothes,” Oikawa noted.  
  
“My point still stands,” Iwaizumi shook his head fondly as he scrolled through their pictures together.  
  
Yahaba had taken him to a cat cafe, Kyoutani didn’t hate cats but he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with them. Unfortunately he was still a magnet for all things small and furry.  
Iwaizumi suppressed another laugh at the mixture of concern and love in Kyoutani's face as he looked to the calico curled up in his lap - and snorted audibly as he paired it with that damn outfit again.  
  
“Pastels really aren’t his colour,” Iwaizumi snickered.  
  
“I would have said the same thing about you before today,” Oikawa interjected, raising his eyebrow thoughtfully.  
  
“Yeah but it’s different for them, they’re like a couple or whatever.” The atmosphere about them turned to ice - Iwaizumi felt a chill run down his spine and briefly hoped it was the cold hand of death coming to claim him.  
  
_A couple… or whatever._  
  
Iwaizumi was getting no help from Oikawa on this one, this was his own rabbit hole to fall down, Oikawa wished him good fucking luck.  
His options flashed before him, running out the door and starting a new life under a suspicious yet familiar alias was currently the most appealing, before he leaned at just the right angle to-  
  
**_‘Screeeeeeeeeeeee!’_**  
  
Oikawa leapt from his seat, nearly somersaulting himself backward off the sofa as the ear-splitting noise rang out. Then the visual stimuli matched with the audio and he sagged, relieved, heart still hammering against his ribcage.  
Just a horror movie, Iwaizumi had leaned on the remote.  
  
_Wait._  
  
Oikawa grinned, catapulting himself onto Iwaizumi’s sofa, slapping the phone from his unsuspecting hands.  
  
“Iwa-chan, I know what I want to do tonight,” he began, smiling deviously. With _that_ expression Iwaizumi was certain he wasn’t going to like this plan.  
  
“What?” He asked reluctantly, phone utterly forgotten.  
  
“You know that horror movie Makki and Mattsun recommended?” Oikawa said.  
  
“Fuck off, _no_ , absolutely not.” Iwaizumi said firmly, attempting an escape but Oikawa grabbed hold of his legs before he could slither over the arm of the chair. ‘I hate watching horror movies with you. Watch it on your own time - when I’m not here!’ He added stubbornly, finally freeing his imprisoned thighs and slumping to the floor in an ungraceful heap.  
  
“Why?” Oikawa sang, peering down at him, still grinning smugly. “Are you _scared?_ ”  
  
Iwaizumi knew it was taunt, bait Oikawa knew he would snap at, but Iwaizumi wasn’t above a bribe.  
  
“If this movie doesn’t finish you off I swear I will,” Iwaizumi growled, jumping up with a flourish and grabbing Oikawa’s wrist.  
  
“Where are we going?” Oikawa whined, barely managing to turn off the TV and hit all the downstairs lights off on his way as he was dragged up the stairs.  
  
“Your room. If we’re doing this I’m not carrying you to bed afterwards, you can sit and stare at the ceiling all night for all I care.”  
  
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pretended to swoon, if only to hinder Iwaizumi efforts to pull him along. “You’re such a gentleman.”

***

When they’d started the movie Iwaizumi insisted that he had some last minute packing for school the next day - having only vague interest in what was happening on screen.  
  
Oikawa had finally lured him into the pillow fort and they’d kicked back to enjoy the movie…  
For all of the half an hour of non-scary plot that the start of the movie had to offer.  
  
At some point Iwaizumi had moved the bolster pillow from between them and shifted into its spot - the movie was about a family that moved into a house, as all horror movies were required to have - Oikawa closed the gap a little more.  
Except things kept going missing, moving on their own and - Oikawa jumped as Iwaizumi’s foot pressed to his own, seeking him out beneath the covers - the family began to realise that maybe - Iwaizumi yawned and Oikawa pretended it was just the cold night that had him tucking himself into the arm his friend threw about his shoulders - they weren’t alone in the house.  
  
_People in the walls_ , Oikawa thought, hand fisted in the front of Iwaizumi’s hoodie, _the most troubling of all the horror movie tropes._  
  
There was a tapping sound from the ceiling above them, Iwaizumi’s hand tensed on his shoulder.  
_Just the water pipes_ , Oikawa repeated it like a mantra, unable to open his mouth and tell Iwaizumi the same.  
  
“That actor is pretty hot, huh?” Iwaizumi breathed, free hand ghosting over Oikawa’s fist settled on his abdomen.  
  
“The husband or the wife?” Oikawa prompted, if he could keep him talking he could ignore the telltale creaking on the stairs.  
  
“Both… I guess?” He laughed again, no actual amusement in sight.  
  
Despite themselves, the movie continued, neither of them keen to be the first to break.  
  
“Hey Oi-Oikawa,” Iwaizumi gulped, looking to the door which they’d tragically left slightly ajar. “Did you lock the front door?”  
  
Oikawa sighed in relief, the one thing he was sure of. He’d locked the door right after his mother had left… but then Iwaizumi had come over.  
  
He’d locked the door, right?  
  
He must have.  
  
He wouldn’t have left it open… _would he?_  
  
“I don’t-”  
  
“If you say you don’t know I am going to throttle you.” Given the situation, Iwaizumi’s threats were the least of his concerns.  
  
No, he’d definitely shut the front door, it swung open if you didn’t slam it properly and he would have noticed the draft whilst they were downstairs.  
But the seed of doubt had already been sown because he certainly couldn’t say the same about the _back door._  
Had he left it open for some late night alien talk? Had he even shut it from last night's encounter?  
  
“Hey, Iwa-chan,” he began, drawling out the syllables of his nickname.  
  
“I am _not_ going down there.”  
  
“Why? Are you sc-”  
  
Oikawa was interrupted by a sudden shriek from the movie that made them both yelp, arms wrapping about each other instinctually, Oikawa’s grasp on Iwaizumi’s hoodie becoming white-knuckled.  
Coughing off the interaction Iwaizumi untangled his limbs from Oikawa’s and breathed deeply.  
  
“All the doors are locked. You’re a responsible adult and you can look after yourself domestically.” It was a lie, but a very well presented one. “And if not, your mom _is_ and I’m sure she secured everything on her way out.”  
Now that was better.  
  
They both sighed - their minds eased, if only a little - only to be met with rolling credits.  
  
_‘Based on a true story.’_  
  
**_FUCK._**  
  
The suspension of reality was all that had been keeping them sane, now even that had been taken from them. Now they weren’t just _maybe_ going to be killed tonight, they were _definitely_ going to be killed tonight.  
  
“I want death,” Oikawa groaned, flopping back against the mattress.  
  
“I want to brush my teeth.”  
  
They both sat bolt upright and looked to each other in horror. They hadn’t even gotten ready for bed on a _school night_ of all days.  
  
“You go, you’re faster,” Oikawa bartered, not missing the way Iwaizumi smirked at the admission.  
  
“Barely. You go, it’s your house,” Iwaizumi argued.  
  
“And you’re older,” Oikawa insisted, resorting to attempting to push Iwaizumi from beneath the covers. “First the worst.”  
  
“Ugh fine,” Iwaizumi gave in, slinking out from under the duvet and steeling his expression. “But only because I don’t want you crying on me again.”  
  
“Low blow, Hajime,” Oikawa tutted, hitting the lights for him as they gazed into the inky black of the bathroom.  
  
Eyes screwed shut tightly, he dashed across the hallway, slamming the lights and looking back to Oikawa with a sense of achievement.  
  
“Hurry up then, you want a audience or something?” Oikawa asked, Iwaizumi flipped him off and swung the door shut after him, leaving Oikawa quite alone and wishing he hadn’t teased him at all.  
  
Once Oikawa had returned from his own bathroom expedition he found Iwaizumi kicking about his room, looking for something.  
  
“Oi, Shittykawa, where’s the futon?” He demanded, peeking beneath the bed warily.  
  
_Shit. The futon_. To be fair he would have brought it up when they came up for the night had he not been _manhandled_ into his room.  
  
“Downstairs,” Oikawa admitted hesitantly.  
  
Iwaizumi paused, digging his fingers into his temples as he huffed dramatically, weighing his options.  
  
“Hey aliens!” Iwaizumi yelled at last, addressing the sky. “You wanna come get your boy before I whoop his ass into space?”  
  
“Hey, they’re _my_ friends!” Oikawa replied indignantly.  
  
“No, _I’m_ your friend and you’ve left my bed down in the murder house!”  
  
“You said everything was fine!” Oikawa jumped away, flipping around on the door as if he expected it to be burst off its hinges at any moment.  
  
Iwaizumi settled his breathing again, both of them getting worked up would get them nowhere.  
  
“So where do you propose I sleep tonight?” Iwaizumi asked, arms spread out searchingly.  
  
It seemed it was Oikawa’s turn to weigh up his choices - either of them could have the bed, as the owner he had the most claim to it but as a host and friend he should probably give it to Iwaizumi.  
  
_Screw it._  
  
Oikawa slipped beneath the covers, patting the space - or the few inches or so of clear mattress that could be loosely described as ‘space’ - next to him.  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Iwaizumi sighed.  
  
“It’s this or the floor,” Oikawa said with a shrug, he knew which he’d rather have.  
  
They locked eyes, Iwaizumi huffing once more in resignation before kicking out of his sweatpants, Oikawa turned away out of courtesy.  
  
“Chill out, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”  
  
_Still_ , Oikawa thought, _the situation wasn’t exactly the same now._ Although he felt as though he _should_ look, if only to prove how _totally chill_ he was about Iwaizumi getting undressed in front of him.  
  
There was another difference though, rather than pulling his collar over his head as he usually did he gripped his hoodie from the bottom with crossed arms and peeled it up off his body - as if unwrapping a present - which was a remarkably fluid and unexpectedly attractive movement. Oikawa briefly wished that every little thing Iwaizumi did didn't have him breaking out in a cold sweat - if only to make him a more appealing bedmate.   
  
As Iwaizumi stared at him, half-naked and unsure whether he should just dive right in, Oikawa pondered that he felt as though he was in the opening of the world’s worst porn where the only objective was to _not_ get a boner.  
  
They’d shared a bed before, even their new unspoken development in the friendship didn’t change the fact that literally sleeping together could quickly turn into the least sexy thing. All it took was one snore for the magic to be broken - but they were well beyond that.  
  
No that wasn’t the problem, the problem was they were both still _scared shitless._  
Oikawa lay on his back, trying to push his mind beyond the noises of the house settling. When that didn’t work he tried his left side, then his right, back to his left for one last attempt before-  
  
“Knock it off,” Iwaizumi’s hand curled about his wrist, not that it had to travel far under the covers to find him.  
  
“I’m the first line of defence if someone breaks in, I have to remain alert,” Oikawa said, eyes set on what he believed was the vague outline of the door.  
  
“I’ll take my chances, tough guy.” Still Oikawa refused to settle. “C’mere.”  
  
An arm snaked about his waist, rolling Oikawa onto his side before he had the chance to wriggle free and pulling him back against a warm, steady weight.  
Oikawa blew a fuse. Not in an angry way - he was just certain that part of his brain had definitely short-circuited and was no longer open for business. Closed until further notice. Gone fishing. _Freaking skidaddled_.  
  
“Let me go!” Oikawa squeaked, halfheartedly trying to push the iron-grip from around his midsection.  
  
“Are you going to stay still if I do?” Iwaizumi mumbled, forehead pressed against Oikawa’s back, clearly more tired than he was scared.  
  
“Yes, I promise!” Oikawa protested, kicking his feet to no avail.  
  
“You’re lying,” Iwaizumi chuckled, pushing his hand up Oikawa’s torso to his chest, making his t-shirt ride up and become all to aware of the skin to skin contact at the small of his back like he was some damn Victorian maiden who'd never experienced the tender touch of a man before. “I can feel your heartbeat, remember?”  
  
_Yes_ , he was lying but that was _not_ the reason his heart was racing.  
  
“I can’t sleep like this,” Oikawa grumbled, though he stopped thrashing. Becoming placid against the sturdy body that was slotted against him like a tetris block and _seriously what was with his body?_ He was _shredded_ , even Datekou's Iron Wall seemed flimsy compared to whatever wet dream Oikawa found himself plastered to.  
  
Iwaizumi laughed again, just a faint rumbling against him now. “You haven’t even tried.”  
  
This shouldn’t be happening, after what Oikawa _did_ and how Iwaizumi _reacted_ he shouldn’t be allowed to fall asleep in his fucking arms. If he weren’t so tired surely he’d push Oikawa away - straight onto the floor most likely.  
  
Yet, a small part of his brain argued, Iwaizumi never did anything he didn’t want to. Maybe, another optimistic part piped up, he was exactly where he _wanted_ to be. Oikawa settled, he _allowed_ himself to settle, safely tucked into Iwaizumi’s arms.  
  
_Fuck it_ , if he was going to die tonight there were certainly worse ways to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, sleep well~


	8. sweaters in spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa makes a move. Iwaizumi takes a hit.

When Oikawa awoke the only warmth wrapped about him was the heat of his duvet, settled comfortably over his shoulders - he pushed a foot out behind him to feel out for any sign of his bedmate. Nothing, as expected.  
  
Peeling his eyes open, he glanced about the room. _Ugh_ , it was far too early for this, he slapped about his bedside table for his glasses.   
  
“Sleep well?” Iwaizumi hummed, his smug grin becoming all too clear as Oikawa pushed the frames up his nose. “Toast?” He offered a slice from his plate, Oikawa was hungry but not enough to break the heat from his blanket cocoon.  
  
“Why are you up so early?” Oikawa groaned, nuzzling his face into his pillow, though he could barely smell his own shampoo under the overwhelming rush of _eau de Iwaizumi.  
Did Hajime marinade in his cologne or something?_  
  
“School, dumbass,” Oikawa nearly fell head-first out the bed in his rush to get up. “Relax, we have a free period first and we’re only in for revision.”  
  
Oikawa breathed in relief but let himself slide the rest of the way off the mattress regardless.  
  
“Why aren’t you changed?” He asked, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses. Iwaizumi was sat in a robe, _Oikawa’s robe_ , he was going to get his stupid attractive scent all over that too.  
  
“Into what?” Iwaizumi replied, munching down another mouthful.  
With his comfort already compromised Oikawa fished himself out from his pillowy hovel and snagged a slice.  
  
A brilliant idea crossed his mind as he mulled over Iwaizumi’s words, utter genius if he could play it right.  
  
“Just wear my clothes,” Oikawa began nonchalantly, putting on the same cool facade Iwaizumi had woken him up with. _And for good measure:_ “dumbass.”  
  
Naturally he took the bait like a fish on a hook, Iwaizumi was never one to back down from a challenge.  
  
“Like I’d want to wear your dumb clothes,” he huffed, already opening Oikawa’s wardrobe and looking inside thoughtfully. “Do you have anything more…”  
  
“Depressing?” Oikawa suggested, pulling out his own outfit for the day.  
  
“I was going to say reserved- _without_ being preppy as hell,” Iwaizumi added as Oikawa reached for one of his stupid button-ups.  
  
“Ah, yes, the ‘ _drunken man who got dressed in the dark_ ’ look. Coming right up!” Oikawa teased, snagging a few things from their hangers and throwing them at Iwaizumi.  
  
Iwaizumi mumbled something, ears flushing red as he spoke.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Do you have any boxers I can borrow?” He grumbled again reluctantly.  
  
Oikawa cackled, throwing a him a pair off the top of his underwear drawer.  
Pink around the waistband with neon hoops about the legs, certainly not the worst Oikawa had to offer.  
  
“Go get changed in the bathroom, I’ll be twenty minutes tops!” Oikawa exclaimed, ushering Iwaizumi out of the room and slamming the door behind him, ignoring his irritable response of ‘ _twenty minutes?!_ ’  
  
_Phew._  
  
Made it through the night without a single awkward _stirring_ and hadn’t even had to deal with the implications of their sleeping arrangement in the morning. Now _that_ was a tremendous success in Oikawa’s books.  
  
“We are allowed to be out of uniform, right?” Oikawa shouted across the hallway.  
  
“Nope, but I’m only in for an hour today, the fuck are they gonna do? Kick me out?” Iwaizumi’s laugh was cut short by a loud bang.  
  
“You okay?” Oikawa called, hearing a subdued groan follow.  
  
“...Your bath mat doesn’t have great traction,” Iwaizumi grumbled in response.  
  
Oikawa didn’t even attempt to stifle his uproarious laughter, the two doors between them instilling him with great overconfidence.  
  
A cautionary glance in the mirror - then once at the clock - told him that today was a hat day, his hair was going to be utterly uncooperative without time to get in the shower. And what better way to piss Iwaizumi off than to pair his denim jacket with a cute denim baseball cap.

**_“I thought double denim went out of fashion decades ago!”_ **  
_“It did! It’s ugly, that’s why it’s fashionable!”_  
**_“What does that even mean?!”_ **

Aha- _oof_ , sometimes it was the small things (that infuriated Iwaizumi) that really made Oikawa’s day.  
  
“Come on Shittykawa, I’m not being late because of you!” Iwaizumi said, hammering on his door in warning as he jogged downstairs.  
  
“I said twenty minutes!” Oikawa reiterated, sticking his tongue out though there was no one in the room to see it.  
  
“And I’m leaving in ten!” came a muffled shout.  
  
Oikawa was a master of cutting corners in his morning routine, throwing his deodorant out behind him as he bounded downstairs to find- _oh no._  
  
“Fucking finally,” Iwaizumi huffed, hopping down off the bar stool.  
  
He’d cuffed Oikawa’s jeans - evidently suppressing his anger at their slight height difference - the same with the sleeves of his sweater which actually fit him perfectly on the shoulders. A little _too_ well, Oikawa contemplated.  
Although he was uncertain if his jeans would make it through the day, Oikawa was sure there were a few new holes splitting in the fabric since Iwaizumi had put them on, the shredded threads of the material straining to contain Iwaizumi’s thighs.  
  
_Utter genius_ , Oikawa had been right. Really this had just been a ploy to get Iwaizumi in all black on a sweltering day but now Oikawa was the only one hot beneath the collar it seemed.   
  
He hadn’t even noticed he’d been staring - open-mouthed, a few seconds away from drooling - until Iwaizumi tapped his jaw shut.  
  
“What’re you lookin’ at?” Iwaizumi snarled, scruffing Oikawa's hat off his head as he rushed back upstairs to grab his school bag. “You look like what jorts see when they go to heaven.”  
  
“Oh, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed, grabbing the banister to stop himself from swooning straight off the stairs. _Hate to see you leave but I love to watch you go._ “All jorts go to hell.”

***

Wearing Oikawa’s clothes wasn’t too bad. Meaning to say it was actually pretty nice… or whatever.  
His clothes smelled like whatever sweet-smelling detergent his family used, though maybe that was just Oikawa’s cologne or - worse still - Oikawa’s natural scent.  
  
Though it was nice to have clothes he was certain had been washed in the last month. Hey, Iwaizumi wasn’t _gross_ … he was just forgetful sometimes.  
  
They fit better than he’d anticipated, sure he’d got a few odd looks when his cuffed sleeves kept unrolling in class - sweater paws didn’t really match with this tough guy reputation he was trying to put across.  
And if his teammates recognised the misplaced outfit then they certainly didn’t let on. Although Matsukawa had slapped his ass on the way into school - _hard_ \- and Iwaizumi was placing blame on these ridiculously tight jeans.  
  
Since he was vaguely certain it wasn’t his stellar personality that attracted all those fans, Iwaizumi considered maybe there was something about his clothes that made Oikawa so appealing.  
_He’d_ certainly been getting a few double takes throughout the day, from female and male classmates alike.  
  
Though there had been a few... incidents.  
  
First was in his registration, one of his classmates had handed him a practice paper he’d missed out on when he’d been at the spring playoffs.  
  
“Oh, we skipped the third question, Sir said he’d go over it in our revision period today,” she explained, flipping through the pages to point it out to him. “You’re staying in for it, right? I’m surprised you haven’t been sent home for being out of uniform.” She giggled.  
  
“Oh yeah, I mean school’s over in a few weeks, they can only give me so many detentions,” Iwaizumi joked.  
  
Though the laughter between them fell flat the girl lingered, spinning a lock of hair about her finger.  
She was wearing a velvet scrunchie on her wrist and it was taking every drop of willpower for Iwaizumi not to reach out and _touch it_ because his sister _never_ let him touch those damn things - which only made them all the more of an enigma!  
  
“So…” Scrunchie Girl began, sitting sideward on the desk chair ahead of him. “Is Oikawa going to be there too?”  
  
She was trying to be casual about it but Iwaizumi could see the faint blush in her cheeks - _dammit, was everyone in love with this guy?_  
  
“No, it clashes with his literature lesson.” Maybe Iwaizumi had been quick to judge, maybe this girl was just a big volleyball fan or on the yearbook committee, stranger things had happened. “But he’s meeting me here after, if you wanted to talk to him?”  
  
“Oh that’d be-” Scrunchie trained her elated expression in. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”  
  
As she drifted by him she paused, Iwaizumi couldn’t figure out why until she _sniffed_ the air. Clearly she smelled _something_ - something _she recognised._  
Following her nose, her eyes landed on Iwaizumi who turned his back quickly, seeing her scan over his outfit and _frown_ before moving on.  
  
She hadn’t-? No, she couldn’t have.  
Did she _smell_ Oikawa on him?  
  
_Could Iwaizumi even do that?_  
  
Iwaizumi put his nose to his shoulder and inhaled deeply.  
  
... Maybe he shouldn’t wear Oikawa’s deodorant anymore given how overenthusiastic Oikawa’s fangirls could be, get sniffed by the wrong person and _bam!_ There goes his right eye - _his favourite eye!_

With no more awkward nasal interrogations Iwaizumi sat back and tried to follow the work his teacher went through on the board, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he jotted down notes and annotated parts of the practice paper for later.  
  
With how focused he had been he was startled by the bell signalling the end of lesson, even with the guy next to him that had been slowly packing away for the past ten minutes.  
As he got his stuff together he noticed the girl from before - Scrunchie Girl - lingering once more, pretending to fiddle with the zip of her bag and sending her friends off without her.  
  
_Strange_ , Oikawa would usually be here by now - maybe he hadn’t been so lucky in avoiding the iron fist of school dress codes. That was until a pair of cold hands pressed over his eyes, obscuring his vision.  
  
“Guess who,” A familiar voice sang.  
  
“Hmm, Yahaba? No wait, it’s Watari. Speaking of which maybe we should reschedule our Oikawa Hating session this week, he’s been really clingy lately and I need a place to vent,” Iwaizumi teased.  
  
Oikawa was pouting as he withdrew his hands and leaned around him, resting them instead on Iwaizumi’s shoulders as he spoke. “I know that was a joke but really I’m just flattered you’d start a club centred around me.”  
  
“Always find a way to turn it into a compliment, huh?” Iwaizumi said, shrugging him off, distracted.  
  
“Well no one’s going to do it _for_ me,” Oikawa replied, leaning back on the opposing desk as Iwaizumi sorted through his papers.  
  
“Iwaizumi!” The girl’s voice broke the silence around them, she was gripping her backpack straps in both hands and beaming. Iwaizumi could see the switch flip in Oikawa’s brain as he began to practically ooze charm. _Gross._  
“Are you guys going to study together?”  
  
The answer was yes but Iwaizumi didn’t particularly want to tell _her_ that, with how unpredictable Oikawa could be he wasn’t sure which of them would become the third-wheel and Iwaizumi wasn’t too eager to find out.  
  
“Iwa-chan isn’t a very good tutor,” Oikawa laughed, speaking behind his hand as if Iwaizumi couldn’t hear. “Trust me, I would know.”  
  
“Oh er-” the girl stumbled over her words the second Oikawa addressed her, though lately Iwaizumi understood how that felt perfectly.  
  
“You don’t need a tutor,” Iwaizumi stated to ease her embarrassment. “When you were working on the board before it was… flawless.”  
  
“Ah I-” she flushed an even deeper shade of red. _Whoops._  
  
“Flawless? That’s high praise from you,” Oikawa said, flicking his ear.  
  
“Yeah, well,” Iwaizumi began, swatting Oikawa’s hands away before turning to his classmate. “I meant it.”  
  
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to find her words as she looked between the two boys - Oikawa seemed surprised at the reaction before that calm facade fell over his face. Like his features resetting, falling into something feigning neutrality.   
  
“Well, I'd better dash. Oh, by the way, Iwa-chan-” his tone had been so conversational Iwaizumi hadn’t been expecting him to loop two fingers over his waistband and _pull_. They fell flush against each other as Oikawa leaned back on the desk, pinging the elastic back against Iwaizumi's abdomen.  
“You look pretty _hot_ in my jeans.” Oikawa was craning his neck so far forward Iwaizumi felt as though his teeth were going to catch over his ear lobe. “You can keep them if you like.”  
  
And with that he was gone.  
Leaving Iwaizumi to buffer through his feelings - alone with only his rapidly increasing libido for company. Oh and Scrunchie-  
_Oh shit._  
  
The girl’s expression mirrored his own - somewhere between mortified and horny - and if the way she turned her head was any indication of how red Iwaizumi had flushed then he was probably glowing like a damn traffic light.  
  
“I-I-” Scrunchie’s stuttering was apparently quite contagious, Iwaizumi thought. “I have to go.”  
  
He slung his bag over his shoulder and fled the room swiftly.

_Fucking hell_ , what was that? Did Oikawa really hate not being the centre of attention that badly? Enough to utterly mortify him in public?  
  
Iwaizumi huffed, he had planned to skip out after his lesson but instead he’d found himself up on the roof. A classic brooding point. Everything was small in perspective here - except for his big, stupid feelings for his best friend.  
It was like Iwaizumi didn't just wear his heart on his sleeve but instead slung it over his shoulder in a great big sack. All those itty-bitty butterflies wrapped up in a handkerchief and tied with a neat little bow.  
  
And it was so _heavy -_ and yet made him feel so _light._    
Forget walking on sunshine, Iwaizumi felt as though he were tip-toeing in the moon.  
  
He wasn’t _mad_ , he was past pretending he didn’t like the way Oikawa touched him, but he’d appreciate some fucking warning first. Or just to take the time to explain _why?_  
  
Iwaizumi was used to being able to read Oikawa like an open book, no matter how hard he tried to conceal his more unsightly pages. But he wasn’t sure how to confront this.  
Did it need confronting? They’d _kissed._  
Surely they both understood the implications of what they felt for each other… and yet Iwaizumi wasn’t certain.  
  
_This will never work_ , he’d told himself just as much. Perhaps the reason neither of had talked about what happened was because they didn’t want to. They didn’t want anything more than a sloppy heat-of-the-moment kiss. Because anything more would be so _messy._  
  
He almost let himself believe it, it was easier that way, but he knew the truth.  
Iwaizumi did want something more.  
  
He sighed, leaning back on his palms with his legs crossed, a harsh ripping sound breaking through the relative silence about him.  
_Fear_ gripped him and then _he_ gripped himself. After a moment or two of groping himself later he was relieved to find that he hadn’t ripped (another) hole in Oikawa’s jeans - which in turn uncovered an even more troubling truth. If the jeans hadn't ripped, then _what had?_  
_Oh shit_ , he was never going to hear the end of this.

***

When Oikawa got home he’d almost forgotten about his new housemate.  
  
“Honey, I’m home,” He sang, grinning as Iwaizumi pulled himself up off the couch. “You missed lunch with Mattsun and Makki,” He paused, vaulting the backrest and letting their long legs tangle together. “Something on your mind?”  
  
“No!” Iwaizumi blurted, a little too eager to answer. Oikawa’s eyes narrowed, suspicious.  
  
“What have you done?” Oikawa stood, resting a hand on hips as he stared him down - Iwaizumi thought getting out of his parent’s house would stop him being on the receiving end of _this look._  
  
“Nothing I-” Iwaizumi lied, exhaling sharply, Oikawa was going to find out sooner or later.  
  
Reaching beneath his legs, he pulled out the tattered remains of Oikawa’s boxer-briefs, the neon pink looking somehow forlorn now.  
  
“What did you _do?_ ” Oikawa shrieked, snatching the fabric from Iwaizumi’s hands and assessing the damage. “Wait,” he looked Iwaizumi up and down, noticing he’d changed. “You have put another pair on, right?”  
  
Before Iwaizumi could reply Oikawa threw himself from the sofa at his hesitation, gagging and writhing at the floor melodramatically. “Iwa-chan, those are _my_ sweatpants!”  
  
“Sweatpants or underwear, I’m putting the same dick in both, what does it matter?” Iwaizumi shrugged, pulling his knees in self-consciously.  
Oikawa stopped convulsing in favour of sitting bolt upright and blushing violently.  
  
“You don’t go commando in another guy’s clothes,” Oikawa whined, holding the split underwear at arms-length. “Now you’ve put your butt all over my favourite sweatpants.”  
  
“Oikawa, you’re being a child.” Iwaizumi was cut short as Oikawa pinged the elastic of the underwear at him, the waistband getting caught over his head like a crown.  
  
Oikawa barely suppressed a snicker. “Seriously though, what were you _doing_ in them?” Losing all sense of anger in favour of laughing at his newly adorned _king._  
  
“Nothing, I swear!” Iwaizumi insisted, ripping the pants off his head and throwing them to the floor.  
  
“Wait, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa gasped, putting the pieces together - which was more than he could do for his underwear. “Were you too _thique_ for my pants?” Drawing out the word in a ridiculous accent.  
  
“Fuck off!!” This time it was a pillow thrown to the floor as Oikawa dodged the projectiles thrown his way and leapt on top of Iwaizumi, attempting to pin his arms beneath his legs.  
  
“Iwa-chan’s too thiiiiiiiick,” Oikawa teased, nearly bucked off the sofa as he began to tickle Iwaizumi, sending the other boy to fits of giggles and screams.  
  
“I’m gonna-” he gasped, freeing an arm enough to grab one of Oikawa’s wrists. “Kill you!”  
  
“What are you gonna do?” Oikawa yelped as he was flipped over, Iwaizumi much swifter to pin his arms down. “Crush me with those thighs? I’ve always said you’ve got arms for hours and legs for DAYS!” He shrieked as Iwaizumi got his tickly revenge - crossing the line of fun and edging into punching Iwaizumi in the face whilst in a puddle of hysterics.  
  
“Oh my god, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa choked out, tears streaming down his face, abs aching from laughing so hard. “Free me!”  
  
But he knew better, it just wasn’t fun unless one of them was literally driven to the point of almost pissing themselves.  
  
Just as Oikawa was about to beg for mercy Iwaizumi halted his assault, letting Oikawa pant in desperate breaths. Once he had his breath back he became acutely aware that Iwaizumi hadn’t moved, still weighing over him like a blanket, thighs settled either side of him.  
_Still not wearing pants!_  His brain offered unhelpfully - trying to keep his mind from straying into territory of thinking: _could_ he feel something weighing down over him? Other that the thick wall of thigh that was currently boxing him in, that was.  
  
Oikawa looked up through his lashes, Iwaizumi was heaving in his own breaths, a toothy smile just edging past his lips as he loomed over Oikawa.

For the first time in a long while, Oikawa felt _small_. Which certainly wasn’t a common occurrence around Iwaizumi. _Sick burn_ , he'd say it out loud as soon as his hammering heart shifted out from his mouth to make way for his sliver tongue.  
_Small_ , but not in a scared or belittled way, he felt similar to how a rabbit must feel when being stared down by a fox. Vulnerable, exposed - and  _not afraid._ He never was with Hajime.  
  
His heart ached as Iwaizumi leaned in, eyes fluttering shut instinctually. That tight coil in his gut just begging for release, buzzing at all the places they touched and craving _more, more, more_ \- like a brat, or more fittingly, a _king._  
There was a held breath shared between them, Oikawa arching his back slightly, anything to bring him closer to-  
  
“You should wash that sweater before it stains,” Iwaizumi commented, voice sounding distant and muffled.  
  
When Oikawa opened his eyes Iwaizumi was sat up with his head leaned back, blood trickling down his chin. Which wasn't _ideal._  
_Oops_ , maybe those misplaced punches before hadn’t been as misplaced as he’d anticipated.  
  
“Whoa, are you okay?” Oikawa fretted, barely glancing over the spotting of blood on his own jumper in favour of worriedly scanning over Iwaizumi.  
_He'd broken his nose,_ he had to have. All this nonsense of feeling like prey and here he was - a horrible, nose-breaking menace to society.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Iwaizumi sighed, eyeing Oikawa out of the corner of his eye as he stripped out of his layers. “Hold that thought.”  
  
He stood, Oikawa nervously shuffling about him, unsure what to do, as he headed for the bathroom. Soothing his fears that at least Iwaizumi's nose was _not_ broken.  
  
Oikawa was usually the one nursing new injuries, he wasn’t quite equipped to deal with the reverse. Not that he was incapable of looking after anyone but he hadn’t considered the fact Hajime wasn’t invincible in quite some time.  
Even as children he’d been this larger than life presence - untouchable in his youth, maybe some of that had rubbed off onto Oikawa throughout the years.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Tooru. Long overdue, don’t you think?” Iwaizumi exhaled a breathy laugh, inspecting the damage in the mirror. Nothing serious, wouldn’t even bruise.  
As Oikawa’s fingers grazed his chin Iwaizumi turned his head away, slapping at his wrist when he tried to tilt it towards him again. “Knock it off.”  
  
“Lemme see,” Oikawa huffed, turning Iwaizumi around and slipping the hand-towel from his hands. “Let me look after _you_ for a change.”  
  
Despite the fact that Iwaizumi sagged at his words it was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, that tension in his chest released in one hot and weighted breath.  
  
Cheeks pressed between Oikawa’s hand, lips pushed into a pout, he let Oikawa gently sponge away the blood crusting over his nose. There was a calm silence shrouding them, Iwaizumi watched the concentration in Oikawa’s face as he worked, tongue just barely poking out the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Thank you,” Iwaizumi said softly as Oikawa tilted his head back and wiped the trail of blood from his neck.  
  
“It’s the least I can do,” Oikawa said, examining his handiwork. “Given that I caused it.”  
  
“I wasn’t talking about that,” Iwaizumi sighed, finger’s slipping around Oikawa’s wrist, holding his hand in place. “For being my friend, my _partner_ , for this long.”  
  
Oikawa laughed, caught off guard, an airy lightness in his heart.  
  
“Iwa-chan,” he chuckled, resting their foreheads together, breathing in tandem. ‘Save it for my funeral, huh?”  
Oikawa kissed him once, gently, just on the tip of his nose where it flushed the reddest. Iwaizumi shook his head, shuddering in quiet laughter as he released Oikawa from his grasp.  
  
“And Hajime,” Oikawa interjected as Iwaizumi crossed the threshold of the bathroom into the hallway. “I’m thankful for you too. Truly a _partner I can boast_ … or whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know what y'alls education situation is like but we're allowed to come and go as we please in our last two years - like not officially but _could you prove this isn't my third dentist appointment in a week, receptionist?_ i think not.  
> thanks for reading, comments and kudos are always appreciated!!


	9. whatever you wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn't a slumber party without digging up a healthy helping of angst!

Oikawa cooked Iwaizumi and himself lunch and dinner, he was practising this whole ‘domestic living’ thing, maybe he’d even get it right without setting a dishcloth on fire for once!  
Fire and misfortune free, they ate dinner and wound down for bed, making a late night of it seeing as they had no lessons tomorrow.  
  
Between the two of them, they managed to successfully manoeuvre the futon into the minimal space on Oikawa's bedroom floor and drew straws for who had to sleep on it - _but Iwa-chan the short straw fits you so well!_ \- and had an impromptu game of cat and mouse as Iwaizumi sought vengeance for his taunts.  
  
“When was the last time you washed this thing?” Iwaizumi cringed, sniffing the fabric cautiously.  
  
“Oh, so _now_ you’re a poster-child for cleanliness,” Oikawa scoffed, dodging the pillow Iwaizumi threw his way. _He's not getting this one back_ , Oikawa thought, securing his arms about it tightly.  
  
“Piss off. That’s my own filth, this is the amalgamation of the last ten guests to stay over at your place. That’s gross.” Oikawa wrinkled his nose in disgust but didn’t even begin to unpack all of that.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep up here again?” Oikawa asked, leaning over the edge of the bed to look down at Iwaizumi. He was beating the futon beneath him into place, as if he could punch it into submission.   
  
“You were right,” Iwaizumi began, head pillowed on his arm as he looked up to Oikawa. “I think we’re a little too big for that now.”  
  
“Never stopped you before.” _Whoops_ , he hadn’t quite meant for that to slip out. Iwaizumi looked up to him, eyes mapping over his face, his gaze tainted with suspicion. “Might be the last chance you get before I’m off in Tokyo.”  
  
“Fucking hell, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi snapped, a sudden bite of anger in his voice. “Will you quit talking about it like you’re going off to war? It’s not a death sentence, dumbass, you should be happy.”  
  
Oikawa hummed, rolling onto his back and pillowing his head on his interlocked fingers. “Are _you_ happy, Iwa-chan?”  
  
There was a second of silence, then a tumbling gaggle of words before Iwaizumi settled on: “What does that matter?”  
  
“I care about your happiness,” Oikawa stated honestly.  
  
“What? Enough to skip out on the school of your dreams because it’d make me _sad?_ ” Iwaizumi spat. “That’s crazy.”  
  
“Is that what you want?” Oikawa hummed, intrigued.  
  
“I- no! That’s not what I want!” Iwaizumi huffed, tugging on Oikawa’s covers to force him to sit upright. “Oikawa, look at me. What do you _want_ me to say? What do you _want_ from me?” Shaking Oikawa slightly, as if he could squeeze the truth from him. Get to the intent behind this utter inanity.   
  
Humming once more, Oikawa strummed a finger over his lower lip, unfazed. “I’m not sure yet.”  
  
Iwaizumi let out a snarling laugh, all hot air and teeth. “Well wake me up when you figure it out!”  
  
He turned his back on Oikawa, flipping him off as he went. Punching his pillow into place he crashed down on it harshly, ripping a startled wheeze from the fluffed up fabric.  
    
_Yeah_ , Oikawa had earned that one.  
  
Slapping at his bedside lamp Oikawa plunged them into darkness, lay staring dead-eyed at the ceiling and listening to the white noise of the house.  
He'd been _so carefu_ l. So careful to keep that hysterical voice locked tightly in the back of his mind, not let it seep onto his tongue and poison his words. Oikawa refused to be _pitied._  
More than anything he wanted the truth, some rationale, a breach in Iwaizumi's armour that he could pick apart. Then maybe... Iwaizumi could _hate_ him enough to let him go painlessly.  
  
“Oikawa, are you awake?” Iwaizumi’s voice split through the silence - he wasn't even sure how much time had elapsed, minutes or hours, did it matter?   
  
Oikawa stayed silent, _it was better this way._  
  
“ _Tooru?_ ”  
  
And Oikawa was a kid all over again, playing hide and seek in the evening and revelling in how smart he’d been to evade Hajime for this long.  
When the darkness crept in it stalked around them slowly, Oikawa hadn’t even noticed it, safe and sound in his own little hideaway. But Iwaizumi was all alone. He could have gone inside, if Oikawa was honest it was probably what he would have done. But he didn’t, because he hadn’t _found_ Oikawa yet.  
That’s when he’d said it, one word spoken through trembling lips.  
_“Tooru?”_  
  
_I’m cold, I’m hungry, I don’t like this game anymore._ The excuses had stopped mattering, they didn’t need words anymore, they knew when to back off.  
More importantly they knew when to reach out.  
  
“I’m awake.”  
  
“Good.” Then all fell silent again. “Are you still awake?”  
  
“Since the last two minutes you checked? Yes.”  
  
“Sorry I-” Iwaizumi stammered, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t want you to go to Tokyo.”  
_Well, he couldn’t fault him for honesty._  
“But I _need_ you to go - for me but mostly for you. You have unlimited potential Tooru and you’re lucky enough to have found a place to tap into it, I’d be a shitty partner and friend if I didn’t ask you to grab it with both hands.” Iwaizumi breaths were small and fast, like he was trying to hold back tears, _bastard_ , he knew that set him off more than anything.  
  
“But what about you?” Oikawa said, stifling a sob and sniffling into the silence.  
  
“I think it’s about time someone told you that my life doesn’t orbit around yours,” Iwaizumi chuckled, though it sounded too wet and wounded to find any joy in. “I won’t be dependant on you.”  
  
“A dependable ace.”  
  
Iwaizumi did cackle at that, loud and clear. “Something like that..."  
The air fell silent around them - white noise of the house filling the space between them. It didn't seem so scary with Iwaizumi at his side, ticking water-pipes and settling stairs, nothing to fear at all. Oikawa wondered what monsters they'd become when he was on his own.  
"It’s okay, you know? To let me go.”  
Another pause, a quiet sigh shared between them.  
“I will always come back.”  
  
And Oikawa broke - the words he needed to hear, so bittersweet yet perfect. How could he have been so selfish? So cowardly? To place the weight of their future of Iwaizumi's shoulders - have him throw Oikawa aside knowing it would  _break_ him to do so because Oikawa was too _scared_  of doing inverse. How could he ever asked that of Hajime?  
  
“So I’m not going to tell you to stay because I don’t want that - and I know you don’t either.”  
  
“You’ve got everything figured out, huh?” Oikawa sniffled, managing to hold the tears back long enough to still the tremor in his voice.  
  
“Not everything,” Oikawa could tell Iwaizumi was talking through a smile. “I’ve never known what to do with you.”  
  
All fell silent, save for Oikawa’s shaking breaths running ragged through the night.  
When did Iwaizumi get so mature and insightful? Always knowing exactly what to say. Why wasn’t he screaming and crying at how unfair this was? How _together forever_ should still mean something to them - it's what they'd promised each other as kids, wasn't it? Were they meant to just let all that go?  
  
Iwaizumi should be crushing down whatever came between them, Oikawa finding his way about the obstructions as usual - but life wasn’t the same off the court and Oikawa couldn’t live that way anymore.  
If walking away from his past was what he needed to grow into his future then surely leaving all this behind was the most mature thing he could do? Put his feelings for Iwaizumi in a box and leave them here in the past - surely their friendship would be all the better for it?  
  
_Whatever_ , his tired brain argued, _what did it matter?_  
  
_What have you ever done to deserve him anyway?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shorter, sadder chapter - update coming soon!


	10. spill the tea - but don't, this is a cafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makki lends a hand. Oikawa makes a run for it.

Despite his late night, Oikawa awoke with the birds only a little past dawn.  
Slipping out from beneath the covers, Oikawa moved silently through the house without hearing the slightest stirring from Iwaizumi.  
Aliens didn’t listen in the daytime, everyone knew that, but there was one person who might be willing to lend an ear.  
  
“Oikawa, you'd better be dying,” Hanamaki groaned over the phone.  
  
“Not quite,” Oikawa sniffled.  
  
Here he was crying in broad daylight as he walked aimlessly down the street - _if only the cameras could see him now_ , he sighed, Iwaizumi would have a field day with it.  
  
“Shit,” he heard deep mumbled talking and the shuffling of bed covers. “Give me fifteen minutes, I’ll meet you at that stupid cafe you like.”  
  
Oh, _that_ cafe. Oikawa didn’t even like _that_ cafe - their coffees tasted like puddle water - Iwaizumi just got a summer job there once and he liked to go in to annoy him. Was this some cosmic power playing with him? Throwing Iwaizumi into his life at every angle with the same hand that sought to pull him out of it.  
Whatever, he’d just order something smothered in sugar, they couldn’t fuck that up. Besides, right now he could use a little sweetness.  
  
***

“You look like shit,” Makki said, sliding into a window seat once they’d gotten their orders.  
To be fair he wasn’t doing much better, wafting his vest back and forth to get some ventilation to his chest, sunglasses tucked over the neckline after steaming up the second they'd entered the store.  
“Seriously though, how can you be wearing a hoodie in weather like this?”  
  
Oikawa looked down, he hadn’t even noticed what he’d put on in his rush to leave the house - Iwaizumi’s pastel hoodie. Or _his_ technically, whatever, the technicalities didn’t matter now. It was still far too soft and smelled like the sandalwood notes of Iwaizumi’s dumb cologne.  
The heat caught up with him as he let out a distressed whine, fanning himself down to hopefully relieve the blotchy patches in his cheeks.  
  
“So what did you do?” Hanamaki asked, resting an arm up on the back of the chair as he sipped on his pink iced drink.  
  
“Why do you always think it’s me?” Oikawa wailed, slurping from his glass aggressively.  
  
“Years of meticulous inquiry.” Makki deadpanned.  
  
Under Hanamaki’s critical gaze he broke easily. “It’s Iwaizumi.”  
  
“Isn’t it always?”  
  
“Are you actually going to help or are you just here to offer witty one-liners?!” Oikawa complained, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“You’re not exactly giving me much to go off,” Makki said, flicking the condensation off his fingers at Oikawa’s unsuspecting face.  
  
“I… kissed him,” Oikawa admitted, blaming the heat under skin on the weather.  
  
“Finally!” Makki cheered, a little too loud for the mellow morning mood in the cafe. “When?! And why haven’t I heard about this?”  
  
“You’re hearing about it now!” Oikawa bit back, fiddling with his fingers. “It was the night after our match with Karasuno.”  
  
“That long ago!” Makki whistled, leaning in across the table. “I’m surprised you two have been able to keep it on the downlow for that long.”  
  
“Keep what on the downlow?” Oikawa cocked his head, confused.  
  
“Y’know?” Hanamaki began, pausing to take a long swig of his drink. “That you’re dating.”  
  
Oikawa nearly spat his drink out in an impressive spray, holding it in enough to have it merely dribble down his chin. “We’re- _what?!_ ”  
  
“Wait, you did tell him _everything_ right?” Makki asked shoving paper napkins into Oikawa's hands as he dabbed down his face.  
  
“... Not exactly,” Oikawa omitted, recalling the way he’d fled the scene after their kiss. Certainly not his _finest_ hour but to his credit they had been particularly trying circumstances.  
  
“Oikawa,” Makki groaned, sliding down his chair until only a light tuft of hair was visible above the table. “You’re going home right now and telling Iwaizumi’s oblivious ass that you’re in love with him!”  
  
“Could you please not declare that I’m in love with my best friend to the entirety of Japan?” Oikawa hushed him, lowering Makki’s outstretched arms as a few intrigued customers looked their way.  
  
“Well at least one of us is doing it!”  
  
“Will you just shut up?” Oikawa hissed, watching Hanamaki recline in his seat, eyes widening at his outburst. “It’s complicated. With university, leaving home, leaving _him_ \- why should I bother?”  
  
Makki scoffed, leaning back coolly once more. “Oikawa, you _dumbass._ ”  
  
“ _Hey-_ ”  
  
“Quit the self-sacrificing act, it doesn’t suit you. Iwaizumi was right, you’re always trying to shoulder stuff on your own,” Makki commented, eyebrow quirked upwards unperturbed. “You want to know something? I get that your ‘alien talk’ thing is just your way of talking through your problems…” Makki trailed off, sighing as he set his crossed arms on top of the table between them. “But other human beings are pretty good listeners too - your friends most of all.”  
  
“I know that! What do you think _this_ is?” Oikawa argued, gesturing between the two of them.  
  
“I think you brought me here to try and convince yourself you’re doing the right thing - pushing Iwaizumi away, not telling him the whole truth.” Makki reasoned, punctuating his point with a long sip of his drink. “Because _you_ don’t believe it yourself.”  
  
Oikawa let the silence drag out between them, hoping Makki would wipe that self-satisfied smirk from his face before he did it for him. “You don’t know that.”  
  
“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Makki grinned devilshy. “I’m _always_ right.”  
  
Huffing - down but not out - Oikawa tried a new approach. “It’s not just that, he’s my _friend_ , I can’t risk ruining that.”  
  
Makki laughed, eyes screwed shut in amusement. “You keep talking about ‘ _ruining_ ’ your friendship. Don’t you think it would be more of a shame to never admit how you feel about each other?”  
  
“...Yeah, I gu-” _wait_. How they felt about _each other?_   Hanamaki knew more than he was letting on. “ _Hey, Makki._ ”  
His eyes were blown wide, clearly aware of his own foolish mistake. _Oh how the mighty have fallen._  
“You wouldn’t happened to have talked with my dear Iwa-chan lately?” Oikawa hummed, swirling the ice in his drink. “Perhaps about a certain someone?” He added, fluttering his lashes.  
  
“Well- I mean I-” he stammered.  
  
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Oikawa booped his nose with one chilled finger. “I have to see him- oh fuck!”  
  
A few more heads turned their way as Oikawa glared at his phone and the latest text that flashed across the screen.  
  
“What is it?” Hanamaki asked, slurping up the remains of his drink.  
  
“He’s going to a university open day today, I won’t see him until this evening,” Oikawa whined, stamping his foot in frustration and drawing in the last customers' wandering eyes.  
_I mean that would give him some time to figure out what he wanted to say, prepare a speech perhaps-_  
  
“Well what are you waiting for?” Makki began, gesturing with urgency to the door. “Go get your man!”  
  
The moment of consideration was really that brief, a moment, before he leapt from his seat. There was a startled squawk as Oikawa hurdled their neighbour’s table, heading for the door at a sprint with no clear plan in mind.  
  
“Good luck!” The barista called out after him as the bell jingled on above him.  
  
“Thank you!” Oikawa trailed out behind him, the door swinging shut as he picked up his pace along the slowly filling streets.  
  
_Good luck,_ huh? He was certainly going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and leaving all your lovely comments and kudos!!  
> update coming soon :D


	11. stop that train!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa makes a scene. Iwaizumi takes control

Blood rushed in his ears, brain thankfully working as fast as his legs as he bumped and bustled his way along the sidewalk.  
It wasn’t worth going home, if he was right about train times and Iwaizumi’s time-keeping habits he’d already be en route to the station. But Oikawa didn’t even have a ticket and he certainly couldn’t outrun a train-  
That didn’t matter now, he wouldn’t let his mind give out before his legs had the chance to. They were burning already, the walk to the cafe wasn’t exactly the strenuous stretches he’d needed to warm up his muscles. Still, he wasn’t about to _stop._  
  
He nearly flew out onto the road, pulling himself back at the last moment, it was a wrong turn anyway.  
_Breathe,_ not thinking wasn’t going to get him there any faster. _But you know the way,_ Oikawa thought, _trust your legs and run._  
  
Everything he knew about long distance running cycled through his brain. Conserving his energy was out of the picture though, slow down for even a moment and he’d miss his chance. Instead he grit his teeth pushed on, letting the adrenaline rush fuel his heavy footfalls.  
  
The station was packed, he slithered through the crowd, elbowing a few people on the way and trailing out apologies behind him as he sprinted onward.  
Jumping the ticket barrier - _look, he’d worry about the legal implications of that later_ \- he frantically scanned the departure screen, searching for Iwaizumi’s platform.  _Gotcha_ , he took off again, the brief stop already flooding his limbs with cement, each step feeling like he was walking through quicksand.  
  
“Iwa-chan!” He yelled, spotting Iwaizumi’s telltale bed-head in the crowd. “Iwa-”  
  
He turned to face him. Oikawa almost collapsed on sight. “Tooru?”  
  
Nearly hacking out a lung, Oikawa bent double in front of him, heaving in hoarse breaths - maybe this wasn’t a great idea but Oikawa had been thinking anything but _straight_ since he'd left the cafe.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi hissed, aware of fellow commuters eyeing them up.  
  
“I have-” _wheeze_ “- to tell you something.”  
  
“Can’t it wait?” Iwaizumi gestured to the train, previous passengers already disembarking, clearing space for the next.  
  
“No,” Oikawa choked out, finally standing upright and ignoring the swimming in his head.  
  
“Go on then,” Iwaizumi sighed, crossing his arms and leaning his weight back on one leg.  
  
This was it then. _Come on Tooru, spit it out._  
  
“I’m in love with you.”  
  
Now that was more painless than expected, easier than ripping off a bandaid.  
  
There were a few captivated gasps from the crowd around them but all pale in comparison to Iwaizumi reaction. His eyes were so wide they were practically bulging out of his head. That vein in his forehead - the one Oikawa usually associated with getting irritably slapped - was pulsing hard as the rest of his face glowed red and hot. _Oh no, time for damage control!_  
  
“I told you it couldn’t wait!” Oikawa proclaimed as Iwaizumi stood flushed and speechless. “Don’t you have anything _to say?_ ” He prompted.  
  
Train long forgotten, the crowd about them held a collective breath as Iwaizumi’s words caught up with his brain - clearing out a small circle around their interaction as the conductor attempted fruitlessly to usher them onto the train.  
  
“I…” he began softly, eyes landing anywhere but on Oikawa as they darted about shiftily. He took a deep breath, the crowd tensed. “I love you too.”  
  
A sigh washed over the assembly, Oikawa leading the wave - a small whoop even erupted from someone behind him.  
  
“Oh- great!” Oikawa turned his head sheepishly, matching Iwaizumi with his own deep blush. “What now?”  
  
“I don’t know!” Iwaizumi squeaked, thankful as the crowd lost interest and began to board. “This may have not been the best setting for a confession!”  
  
“I know,” Oikawa sighed, closing the conversation between just the two of them as he approached. “But I had to see you before you left.”  
  
“Dumbass,” Iwaizumi chuckled, shaking his head as his fingers fiddled with the tassels on Oikawa's hoodie. “I’m not leaving now.”  
  
“What? Why?” Oikawa asked, moving to take a step back before Iwaizumi grabbed him by the elbows and held him close.  
  
“And leave you here all day to stew? Yeah, like I’d let that happen,” he scoffed, turning to head towards the train.  
  
“Where are you going then?” Oikawa asked, catching his wrist.  
  
“This train takes me past a station closer to home,” Oikawa beamed, ready to hop aboard before Iwaizumi pressed a finger to the tip of his nose and pushed him back onto the platform. “But _you_ don’t have a ticket.”  
  
Oikawa whined but it only served to widen Iwaizumi’s smug smile.  
  
“I’ll be home in about ten minutes, probably less,” Iwaizumi noted, checking his watch and looking up to Oikawa through half-lidded eyes. _A challenge._ “Think you can make it?”  
  
His head screamed no, his legs felt like jelly and he was certain he was going to collapse at any moment - lungs filled with wildfire. But his heart, thudding elated and strong in his chest gave a different answer:  
  
“Yes.”

***

Slapping feebly at the front door, Oikawa all but collapsed on his front step, legs losing all sensation beneath him.  
  
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Oikawa grinned, falling onto his back as soon as someone answered his knocking.  
Iwaizumi just smiled, looking down at Oikawa crashed on his back between his legs - oddly endeared by the sweat pooling through the fabric, _he’d really ran all the way here._  
  
“Come on,” Iwaizumi said, hauling Oikawa’s weight over his shoulders. “I’ll let you rest up now.”  
  
It wasn’t _awkward_ per se, but there was a palpable tension between them as Iwaizumi settled Oikawa down on the sofa and fetched him a glass of water. Kind of like 'the morning after' except there wasn't a 'night before' to make it feel worthwhile.   
His legs burned, Oikawa tried to stretch out some of the ache in them as Iwaizumi wrapped his shaking hands about the cool glass for him.  
  
“I want to-” Iwaizumi held up a finger, quieting him.  
  
“Drink first,” he instructed, tipping up the base of the glass up into Oikawa’s awaiting mouth. “Talk after.”  
  
No, the silence wasn’t awkward at all - their friendship had been filled with comfortable silence, from time to time anyway, why should this be an different?  
So Oikawa sipped on his drink, in no hurry to finish as Iwaizumi instructed him to raise his arms so he could tug his hoodie over and off, settling it about his shoulders instead.  
Then he just sat, waiting, kicking back on the couch and tangling their legs together in the limited space between them.  
  
“Are you done?” Hajime hummed as Oikawa gasped over the last of his water, taking the glass from him and setting it down on the coffee-table. “Go on then.”  
  
Oikawa took a deep breath- _wait, what?_  
  
“I thought I’d kind of…” he drawled out, a little unnerved by Iwaizumi’s unshaken expression. “Said my piece.”  
  
“What? That you love me?” He actually laughed, it’d be music to Oikawa’s ear if paired with any other words. “What else?”  
  
He babbled over his thoughts for a second or two before it hit him. “And I’m _sorry_. For kissing you and running off... For not telling you sooner.”  
  
“Better,” Iwaizumi grinned over his mug of coffee. “Me too, for the record.”  
  
As Iwaizumi slurped loudly - what a _heathen_ , Oikawa couldn’t believe he was in _love_ with this idiot - Oikawa twiddled his thumbs.  
  
“So what now?” Oikawa said awkwardly, breaking the fragile silence.  
  
“Well,” Iwaizumi began, placing his mug aside. “Firstly I’m going to say that running all the way to the train station is the stupidest, cheesiest, most… _annoyingly romantic_ thing you’ve ever done. Secondly,” he slithered across the sofa, pulling Oikawa towards him by the sleeves slung about his neck. “If you _ever_ publicly embarrass me like that again I’ll save you money on trains and dropkick your ass to Tokyo free of charge.”  
  
“And thirdly?” Oikawa hummed, bringing one leg up over him, resting his heel to the small of Iwaizumi’s back as he mimed brushing lint off Iwaizumi's shoulder distractedly - anything to get his hands on him honestly.  
  
“Thirdly,” Iwaizumi gulped, losing his nerve as Oikawa threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thirdly, I-”  
  
“Do I not get a _kiss?_ ” Oikawa prompted, smiling all too sweetly as Iwaizumi spluttered in surprise.  
  
“I-I don’t know,” Iwaizumi began, pushing past that nervous quiver in his voice to something smooth and low. “Promise not to run away after this one?”  
  
“Hmm, I think I need a little convincing.” Smirking still as Iwaizumi closed the gap between them, eyes closed and waiting for-  
  
As the tension about his neck fell slack his back hit the arm of the sofa, Oikawa’s eyes flickered open to see Iwaizumi grinning, hands no longer fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Oikawa whined in disappointment, _fuck_ , Hajime really had him wrapped about his little finger.  
  
“Promise?” Iwaizumi repeated, fingers toying over the cuffs of Oikawa’s sleeves.  
  
“I promise,” he insisted, unable to suppress his thrilled smile as Iwaizumi leaned in once more.  
  
His lips were warm, soft and pliant against his own as Iwaizumi kissed him, leaving the taste of coffee on his tongue.  
Oikawa hummed, arching his back off the sofa as he wrapped his arms about Iwaizumi’s shoulders - his palm tracing down Oikawa's spine to the small of his back, supporting Tooru's weight as he hung off him like a squirrel-monkey.  
  
When they broke apart it was only so Oikawa could back Iwaizumi onto his own end of the sofa and settle himself on his lap, returning to his lips eagerly.  
He was already burning up _before_ he had Iwaizumi’s hands branded on his sides, tangled in his hair, blunt nails dragging down his shoulder blades, gripping at his thighs - his touch was electric against him, leaving Oikawa unable to do anything but arc into the contact.  
Iwaizumi tapped out, resting his forehead against Oikawa’s and regaining the breath that Oikawa had stolen from him.  
  
“ _Whoa,_ ” Oikawa exhaled, mesmerised as Hajime just breathed steadily, eyes closed and humming thoughtfully. “Don’t know how I’m going to thank the aliens for fixing this one.”  
  
“Will you shut up already?” He replied, Oikawa yelping as Iwaizumi’s arms wrapped about him and pinned him snugly against his chest. “The aliens never fixed anything, that was all you.”  
  
Oikawa felt something press against his hair and it took him a moment to realise Iwaizumi had kissed the top of his head. “Wow, Iwa-chan, I never thought you’d be a cuddler.”  
And he laughed. Awkwardly. Because anything else and he might have to admit that this was… nice. To be held - bundled up in Iwaizumi’s arms and ignore the fact he had long since outgrown them.  
Iwaizumi didn’t seem to mind, lightly tugging on his hair as he ran his fingers through the strands - humming again, though Oikawa couldn’t place the tune. _Hold on-_  
  
“Is that Shiratorizawa’s fucking _anthem?_ ” Oikawa said in disgust, pushing himself up off Iwaizumi’s chest with a face of pure revulsion.  
  
Blinking a few times at his sudden interruption, Iwaizumi’s vision finally settled on a very disgruntled Oikawa - face falling into a level of fear that Oikawa found agreeable for the situation.  
  
“Oh shit, it was,” he laughed as Oikawa collapsed defeated on top on him, ripping a surprised wheeze from his lungs. “It’s catchy.”  
  
“No it’s not,” Oikawa grumbled, words muffled into Iwaizumi’s pecs as he patted his back apologetically.  
  
“Whatever you say,” Hajime murmured, resting his chin atop Oikawa’s head as the man himself wrapped his hands about Iwaizumi’s waist.  
  
Iwaizumi always ran hot, it was worse in summer - but without the warmth of his hoodie Oikawa had little complaints to huddling himself against his own personal space heater.  
  
When it wasn’t their  _rival’s fight song_ , Iwaizumi’s humming was very soothing - and Oikawa found himself practically whimpering at the hand cascading through his hair, eyes rolling back into his skull until they simply fluttered shut.  
Their breathing was steady, Oikawa simply just had to match pace with Iwaizumi, just like on the court. It was so ingrained in their brains it had become second nature - Oikawa _was_ a creature of habit after all.  
Soon the day’s exertion caught up with him - coming in waves, matching a perfect harmony with Iwaizumi’s steady breaths and lulling him to sleep.

***

It was getting dark by the time Oikawa awoke and peeled himself off Iwaizumi’s sleeping form, drawing a long, whining moan from the man himself.  
  
“Ouch,” Iwaizumi winced, hand rubbing over his chest. “My ribs. You’re definitely too big for this.”  
  
“What a _baby,_ ” Oikawa teased, lifting himself up off his… best friend _(?)_ so he could heave in a lungful of air.  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Iwaizumi mumbled, not even opening his eyes as he turned onto his side and nestled back down onto the cushions.  
  
“But it suits you so well,” Oikawa said, nuzzling his nose up behind Iwaizumi’s ear and pressing swift kisses to the exposed skin as Iwaizumi just curled into a tighter ball and halfheartedly waved him off.  
  
Nipping at his earlobe and licking across the length of his jawline uncoiled some of that tension in Iwaizumi’s arms, unwinding in favour of rolling over onto his back and gliding up over Tooru’s sides.  
His breaths were hot and laboured, eyes barely flitting open as his head arched back for Oikawa to place wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck.  
Oikawa pulled down the neckline of his shirt to suck a mark where Iwaizumi's shoulder met his neck, swirling his tongue over the patch of burst blood vessels as he retreated to admire his handiwork. Iwaizumi let out an honest to god _whimper_ which Oikawa just _knew_ was going to be at the forefront of his mind every lonely night in Tokyo.   
  
Whining once more, Iwaizumi pulled him back down and caught his mouth in a sweet kiss, Oikawa didn’t even attempt to halt the surprised moan from working past his lips - he’d forgotten they could just do this now. Pulling apart with a satisfied smile Iwaizumi finally opened his eyes - sitting somewhere between green and brown in the summer day sun.  
  
“Do you think this is how it’ll be when we’re in university?” Oikawa pondered.  
  
“What do you mean?” Iwaizumi said, brushing the hair from Oikawa’s eyes as he hovered above him.  
  
“Cramped onto one tiny bed when you come and visit-”  
  
“Who said anything about _me_ visiting _you?_  You might want to pay respects to your local habitat every once in a while, ‘Grand King’,” Iwaizumi snickered, pushing him off the sofa.  
  
“My university’s bigger,” Oikawa argued, whipping around from his heap on the floor.  
  
Iwaizumi hummed, leaning his head back on his interlocked fingers. “It’s always about size with you.”  
  
“That’s because I’m at least in the running with _that_ particular competition.”  
  
Iwaizumi tripped him as he attempted to clamber back onto the sofa in retribution.  
  
“You think we’ll be okay though? As friends or…” Oikawa trailed off, looking to Iwaizumi who was shut-eyed and facing the ceiling again.  
  
“Boyfriends,” Iwaizumi filled in, turning to face a rapidly reddening Oikawa. “That’s the word you’re looking for I believe.”  
  
“Yeah, _that_ ,” Oikawa blushed, ecstatic.  
  
“Come here, dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, offering a hand to haul Tooru back into his lap, pushing his fringe back from his eyes with both hands. “I think we’re going to be just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, comments and kudos are appreciated as ever!! :D


	12. your heart, in exchange for mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa makes a trade. Iwaizumi has once last conversation with the stars.

“Are you sure your sister has enough room in her car for all this?” Iwaizumi said in disbelief, looking at the stacks of boxes about Oikawa’s room.  
  
They were packing away his things for university, Iwaizumi had done the same a few weeks prior. Though he didn’t think he’d taken half the the amount that Oikawa was hoarding away - Iwaizumi was about to step in because _no you don’t need that fourth music box, why do you even have so many?!_  
  
“Yep!” Oikawa piped up, popping up from behind a particularly tall tower, pencil tucked behind his ear. “I did the math myself!”  
  
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Iwaizumi muttered under his breath, picking through the contents of one of the boxes at his feet. It was mostly clothes, nothing of interest to Iwaizumi except…  
“Hey, some of these are mine,” Iwaizumi realised, picking out a pair of sweatpants he’d ‘lost’ over a month ago.  
  
“What?! No they’re not!” Oikawa replied, snapping the box shut and draping himself atop it to stop Iwaizumi from prying any deeper.  
  
“Yeah, because you _love_ embroidered Godzilla caps,” Iwaizumi scoffed, snagging the brim from where it poked between the flaps of cardboard and yanking it free.  
It looked in perfect condition, untouched one might argue, unstained and missing any obvious gaping holes which was usually the reason Oikawa ‘disposed’ of his stolen clothes - so why had Tooru _hidden_ it?  
“You said you hated this hat,” Iwaizumi stated, raising it out of Oikawa’s reach as he attempted to snatch it back.  
  
“I do,” Oikawa insisted, huffing defeated as he fell limp over his box once more. “But it’s still _yours._ ”  
  
Iwaizumi floundered. “What?”  
  
“Really Iwa-chan, do I have to spell everything out for you?” Oikawa sighed, prying the hat from Iwaizumi’s hands to look lovingly at the stitched design on the front. “Something this tacky and lame… it could only remind me of you.”  
  
“Thank… you?” Iwaizumi replied, uncertain there had been a compliment somewhere in there. “But I lost this months ago - on a _date_ with _you_.”  
  
“Well I couldn’t steal everything at once, could I?” Oikawa admitted sheepishly, pulling one of Iwaizumi’s sleep shirts that had mysteriously disappeared at the start of the summer out from the box. “You’d get suspicious.”  
  
“So you’ve just been squirrelling all this away for months?” Iwaizumi said, bewildered as Oikawa pulled out more and more of his items, some he hadn’t even realised were missing. “But.. why?”  
  
“So silly, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa laughed, though it sounded a little forlorn. “Because I’m going to _miss you_ , Hajime.”  
  
_Oh._  
  
“B-but,” Iwaizumi stammered, looking at mess they were making about them. “But that’s not fair!” Oikawa leaned back, brow furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t get anything of yours!”  
  
Iwaizumi had already moved into his dorms and had kept it pretty minimalist, taking only the essentials and trinkets he couldn’t bear to part with - a few polaroids Oikawa had taken of their dates nights or day trips with the rest of the team. Nothing more _personal._  
  
“I want-” Iwaizumi’s eyes darted about the immediate vicinity, settling on the cap on Oikawa’s desk - blue denim with a little embroidered alien figure. “This!”  
  
“But that’s my favourite,” Oikawa whined dejectedly.  
  
“And that’s mine,” Iwaizumi replied, nodding to the cap in Oikawa’s hands.  
  
Oikawa looked to the accessory, black acid wash with hideous neon stitching - _Hajime’s favourite._  
  
“Okay, but you have to take some of my clothes then too!” Oikawa demanded, grabbing the nearest item and shoving it into Iwaizumi’s lap.  
  
“This?” Iwaizumi said in distaste, picking up the pastel blue hoodie between his thumb and forefinger and grimacing. “But I _hate_ this one.”  
  
“Fine, so give it back,” Oikawa said, holding out an expecting hand.  
  
“No! Fuck off, it’s mine,” Iwaizumi snapped after a moment's consideration, holding the hoodie tight to his chest.  
  
A self-satisfied smile broke across Oikawa’s face as he busied himself with taping up the remainder of his boxes.  
As he leaned over one of the trunks his pencil slipped from behind his ear, they both leapt into action, hands slamming over it before it could roll beneath Oikawa’s bed and thus be lost to time itself.  
It was strange, that they had been dating for so long and even simple contact like this still made Iwaizumi’s heart race - Oikawa’s hand cool and coarse against his own. He grabbed the pencil with his thumb, pushing his fingers up to entwine in the space between Oikawa’s.  
  
“I’m going to miss this,” Iwaizumi said wistfully, looking at their conjoined hands as Oikawa’s thumb drew circles on his skin. “And you.”  
  
There was a high-pitch whistle - it took Iwaizumi a second to realise it had come from Oikawa, suppressing a sob.  
  
“Tooru,” Iwaizumi tutted, dropping the pencil to the floor in favour of cupping his boyfriend’s head in his hands. “Quit crying. It’ll be Christmas soon and we’ll be home for the winter holidays before you know it.”  
  
Oikawa gave one final determined sniffle, putting on a brave face and even offering a smile as Iwaizumi brought his arms up about him. They sat there in each other’s arms until Iwaizumi’s leg lost feeling beneath him. Before he could pull away entirely Oikawa surged forward and captured his lips in a lingering kiss.   
__  
He should pull away, Hajime told himself, _before it got heated_. Unfortunately he wasn’t very good at following what he _should_ be doing when Tooru was involved. As Oikawa moaned insistently into the kiss, Iwaizumi could do nothing but bunch the material of his shirt in his hands and pull Oikawa into his lap. Their mouths parted just far enough for Oikawa to slip his tongue between Iwaizumi’s lips, teeth catching over his lower lip as he retreated. Oikawa’s eyes were dark and devilish, settled on Iwaizumi’s lips and not done with him yet as he raked a hand through Iwaizumi’s hair and _tugged._  
  
“Hey Shittykawa, are you ready to g-uUGHH-”  
  
Oikawa pulled away instantly, face beet-red as he addressed the intruder. “Mei! Knock next time!” He screeched, snatching the long forgotten pencil from the floor and tossing it at his elder sister. Though she didn’t look too thrilled about her intrusion either, hand plastered over her eyes, mouth twisted down in a pained expression.  
  
“I’d say I’ll leave you two to it but...” she paused, removing her hand cautiously to check the coast was clear. “If we don’t set off soon I won’t make it home before dark. And you don’t want a reputation for tardiness before you’re even enrolled, do you?”  
  
As Oikawa pried himself out of Iwaizumi’s lap and helped his boyfriend to his feet, Mei rested one of the boxes against her cocked hip.  
  
“It’s nice to see you again, Hajime,” Mei paused, looking him up and down. “Have you shrunk?”  
  
So she had a centimetre on him, _at best_ , it’s not Iwaizumi’s fault Oikawa came from a family of giants.  
  
He didn’t have time to think up a response as the lighter of the two boxes Oikawa had attempted to carry slipped off the stack and into Iwaizumi’s awaiting arms. “Let me _help_ , dumbass. I'm not just here to stand around and look pretty."  
  
"Hmm, could have fooled me," Oikawa teased, kicking him in the shins which was as close as he could get to slapping him on the butt with fully laden hands.  
  
“Aw, aren’t you two just adorable?” Mei cooed, pinching their cheeks, knowing full well their hands were too full to do anything about it. “Come on then boys, let’s load up!”  
  
***

With the car packed quite literally to the brim and Oikawa sat in the passenger's seat, Iwaizumi was at a loss of just how to say goodbye - how do you say goodbye to someone you’d shared your entire life with up until this very moment?  
Oikawa seemed to be in a similar position, looking out his open window to Iwaizumi. Each hoping the other knew the right thing to say.  
  
“ _Oh my_ \- will you just kiss him already?!” Mei piped up, leaning forward to be seen past Oikawa’s big, imploring eyes.  
  
That- well that sounded _perfect._  
  
Iwaizumi wasn’t quite sure how to ‘pour your all’ into a kiss.  
He’d thought it was intensity at first but Oikawa had told him months ago that if he kept frowning into all their kisses he was going to start taking it personally.  
Then he’d pondered that maybe it was just how far you took the kiss, but with Oikawa’s mother and sister watching he wasn’t keen on this getting too explicit.  
Finally he just decided to _think_. About their first meeting, broken bones, sprained knees, games won and lost, his conversations with the aliens. Everything. The good and the bad.  
Enough to let Oikawa know that he loved him and he was going to go on loving him for a very long time.  
Just enough to say goodbye.  
  
When Oikawa pulled away - from the kiss, from the curb - Iwaizumi told himself not to follow him. But he did, he always had.  
Kissing him twice and running level with the car up the sidewalk until they were driving too fast for Iwaizumi to keep pace.  
  
Then he let him go.  
  
Just for now.  
  
Just for a little while.

***

Iwaizumi was staying at home for the weekend before returning to the dorms, he wasn’t above admitting that he was already a little homesick, even though he’d barely been away long enough for the dust to settle in his room.  
During the move they’d shifted his bed right beneath the skylight, the light of the moon shining in through the sloping window.  
  
Oikawa should be settled in his own room by now, Iwaizumi wondered how clear the skies were in Tokyo.  
They’d spend so many nights together that it was harder to sleep alone - Iwaizumi could only picture him staring up at the ceiling, just as he was now.  
Everything in him wanted to call or text, check in before that lonely first night, where the walls around you felt as though they were closing in - looking and smelling foreign and false. But both the best friend and boyfriend in himself said to let Oikawa rest - it would have been a long drive, especially with his sister at the wheel.  
  
Though it seemed neither of them would be getting much sleep tonight, Iwaizumi thought, tossing and turning in the bed he’d once found so comfortable - maybe he should lie on the floor, at least that would feel more like his dorm room bed.  
  
The moon caught in his eye again, throwing his covers aside Iwaizumi huffed as if to say: _what do you want?_  
Like he needed to ask.  
The window was stiff as he pushed himself out over the edge, tip-toes just pushing off the mattress as he breathed in the cool night air.  
  
“Hello again,” Iwaizumi laughed breathlessly as a shooting star flitted across the sky. “Just a reminder of our little deal.”  
  
_Look after him when I can’t._  
  
The sky seemed to laugh childishly, twinkling with another pair of shooting stars running parallel to one another.  
  
“But don’t think this means I owe you, I’m not doing this for me.”  
  
Iwaizumi had never been good at finding constellations, then again neither had Oikawa.  
_

_“That one’s Hajime Minor,” Oikawa had teased, pointing to a vague assembly of stars - the two of them strewn out on a blanket in Oikawa’s backyard._  
  
_“Hmm, why’s it named after me?” Iwaizumi asked, barely interested in the stars, preferring to look at Oikawa as he glowed under the moonlight._  
  
_“It looks like your spiky hair!” Oikawa had laughed, grabbing Iwaizumi’s arms before he could roll away reflexively. “No wait, look!”_  
  
_Overlapping their hands, he’d pointed their joined fingers as the sky, tracing out the path of ‘Hajime Minor’._  
Iwaizumi did try and follow Oikawa's movements but was just drawn back into his face.  _How his hair had fallen from his eyes, round and wide with wonder and were almost glowing blue under the night light._ _His eyelashes were impossibly long, casting the slightest of shadows against Oikawa’s freckled cheeks - face open and free as he smiled._  
  
_“Hajime,” He’d hummed, only half disproving as he brought their joint hands into his chest, fingers tangling together haphazardly. “It’s not ‘stargazing’ if you’re not looking at the stars.”_  
_

Without realising, he was looking for it now - Hajime Minor. Though, from this angle, at this rotation, it looked like another constellation intersected it straight through its heart. A fluid line of stars each following one another in tandem - a perfect, refined arc.  
A shooting star passed over his line of sight, blazing up in a brilliant shade of green ahead of his constellation.  
  
“Yeah, _I get it_ , assholes.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, gaze fixing on those stars again - the ones that converged right over _his heart._  
  
_Tooru Minor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is the chapter title a stardust reference? hell yeah baby.  
> thanks for reading, just the epilogue to come!!


	13. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://ccaeos.tumblr.com/)!!

Let the record show they’d lasted until the end of October, barely two measly months before Iwaizumi was packing an overnight bag and boarding a train to Tokyo.  
  
“Y’know, I _was_ hoping to see some of the city,” Iwaizumi exhaled as Oikawa’s teeth caught over the skin of his collarbone. “Not just the damp patches on your ceiling.”  
  
They were sprawled out on Oikawa’s tiny bed, Hajime’s bags abandoned somewhere near the door in favour of pinning one another to the mattress and kissing each other senseless.  
  
“Hmm, I much prefer the sights right here,” Oikawa teased, running his fingers down Iwaizumi’s thigh to grip his leg and bring it up over his back again.  
  
Really this was better than anything they’d had planned - webcams didn’t do Oikawa justice, he was even more irresistible in person.  
But Iwaizumi did want to get at least _some_ talking done whilst he was here - without hearing it over the tinny speakers of his phone or through the crackle of the deteriorating headphones he’d plug into his laptop.  
  
“Nah, come on,” Iwaizumi batted his face away and slithered out from beneath him. “We can’t stay in bed all weekend.”  
  
“Ew, when did you become an adult?” Oikawa teased, throwing him a shirt from the floor.  
It must have been a sleep shirt, Oikawa had a habit of pushing his knees up through the neckline of his pyjamas and this top was stretched beyond recognition.  
  
“When I started having to look after you,” Iwaizumi chuckled, pulling the shirt on over his head and getting lost on which appendage belonged where.  
  
“You don’t look after me!” Oikawa replied, affronted. “I cook my own meals, wash my own dishes-”  
  
“Yeah, call me back when you start cleaning your own room,” Iwaizumi interrupted, pulling out a pair of boxers that had been tangled up in the shirt with him.  
  
Oikawa was stopped in his tracks, snatching the underwear from Iwaizumi’s hands and shoving them beneath the duvet, lower lip pushed out in a childish pout.  
  
Pulling up the waistband of his sweatpants, which were riding dangerously low on his hipbones, Iwaizumi wandered over to Oikawa’s desk and sat down on his nicely cushioned chair. From here they had a great view of the quad below, which was mostly barren due to the cold weather. Not that that had any particular effect on Hajime, still sweating up a storm even in this biting chill.  
  
Oikawa, however, was quivering like a leaf - poor kid wasn’t meant for the cold.  
He shuffled over to the chair, wrapping his legs about Iwaizumi as he settled himself down in his lap. Still discontent, he pulled Iwaizumi’s borrowed shirt over his head and slithered into the material alongside his boyfriend - stealing the precious heat Iwaizumi was been storing up.  
Oikawa fingers were freezing against Iwaizumi’s back as he plastered himself to his torso but Iwaizumi didn’t give him the gratification of a yelp in surprise.  
No, Iwaizumi was quite content to sit in blissful silence and watch the students come and go from on high.  
  
“You brought my hoodie back,” Oikawa commented, noting the pastel blue fabric abandoned on his bedspread. “I like seeing you in it.”  
  
Iwaizumi scoffed. “And I like seeing myself out of it.”  
  
“Why do you wear it then?” Oikawa purred, snaking one hand out of the neckline to twirl strands of Iwaizumi’s hair between his fingers. “You like everyone to know I’m yours?”  
  
“Nah,” Iwaizumi replied, unconcerned. “People are going to flirt with you no matter what I do - I don’t mind, not my fault my boyfriend’s so hot.”  
He was grinning, knowing how Oikawa would blush at the compliment.  
“But people leave me the fuck alone when I wear your shit,” he shrugged, shoulder slipping out of the fabric as he did so.

Tooru's stomach lurched, tumbling like a washing machine. That fluttering in his gut whipped up into a frenzy again, the specific kind triggered only when Hajime said absurdly sweet things. Despite the foul language used, Oikawa was used to digging out the nuggets of adorable subtext.  
Because Iwaizumi wasn’t overly fond of PDA, he didn’t particularly like to broadcast their relationship far and wide. More than anything else he wanted to be judged on his own merit alone, not on his relation to Oikawa. Especially now Oikawa was gaining attention within his new volleyball team.  
  
Seijoh’s team, however, had taken to referring to Oikawa as ‘Iwaizumi’s boyfriend’, though Tooru himself found it funny. Except he’d never really considered that Iwaizumi would like the inverse. To be seen and have someone think, _oh that’s Oikawa’s boyfriend._  
It was something small, simplistic, that made Oikawa’s heart feel fit to burst.  
  
Without words to respond he just held Iwaizumi tighter, burying his face into the crook of his neck. Hoping to show how grateful he was to call him ‘his’.  
  
Soon they were both warm, in hand and heart, wrapped up in each other’s arms as Iwaizumi continued to gaze absentmindedly out the window, swaying them back and forth on the desk chair.  
For far too long to remain interesting apparently, Oikawa had grown impatient. Every so often he’d nip at Iwaizumi’s ear or pull on his hair like an unattended puppy - anything to get his attention.  
  
“Hey, there’s a husky down on the quad,” Iwaizumi said, distracted.  
  
Oikawa just groaned and nuzzled his nose beneath Iwaizumi’s jawline, trying to nudge his his head towards him.  
  
“No, look, he’s got a little hat on,” Iwaizumi added, the excitement in his tone was enough for Oikawa to open his eyes a little and peep out the window.  
  
“Aw,” he cooed, all tension disappearing in an instant as he watched the dog looking up towards his owner attentively, tail wagging to and fro. “We should get a dog when we move in together.”  
  
Iwaizumi spluttered, well _that_ had gotten his attention at least. “‘ _When_ ’?!”  
  
“Is that so strange?” Oikawa asked, leaning his head on Iwaizumi’s bare shoulder, fingers tracing circles on his chest. “To want a future with you?”  
  
Now it was Iwaizumi’s turn to flush bright red, the heat of his blush making their enclosure within the shirt stifling.  
  
“Well I-” he sighed, smiling softly. “No, I suppose not.”  
  
Oikawa just grinned all the wider as he ducked his head - trying to play it off all cool as if Oikawa couldn’t feel the heat off his face in the small distance between them.  
  
“We should, erm,” he coughed, still glowing red. “We should probably get dressed, I don’t want to feel as if I’d wasted my time sitting here.”  
  
“We’re together aren’t we? I wouldn’t consider that a waste,” Oikawa stated, reveling the way in which Iwaizumi’s blush only deepened, reaching the tips of his ears.  
“Besides we’ll be seeing each other again soon,” Oikawa said, muffled into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck. “After spring play-offs.”  
  
Spring play-offs - just like high school. Win and they’d be coming to Tokyo as their prefecture’s representative, it sounded perfect. Except for, well-  
  
“I dropped out as a regular.” Iwaizumi blurted out, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off in one swift motion.  
The temperature between them seemed to plummet as Oikawa reeled back, brow so creased Iwaizumi felt as though he were looking in a mirror.  
  
“You- you did what?” Oikawa stammered, leaning back in shock. Though with sharing a shirt it didn’t quite go as planned, Iwaizumi tugged back in place flush against his chest. “You’re not playing anymore?”  
  
Iwaizumi was expecting anger - which he was getting to a small degree - though to be honest Oikawa’s disappointment was worse.  
  
“No I am… I just-” he trailed off into an unintelligible murmur.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m helping out as a coach.” Iwaizumi repeated, arms wrapping around Oikawa’s back to hold him up eye-level as he spoke. “I’m really enjoying myself- and I’m _good_ at it too, Tooru.”  
  
“A coach?” Oikawa hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “That’s pretty hot.”  
  
“Piss off,” Iwaizumi laughed, wriggling his arms inside the shirt to push Oikawa’s dumb, dopey face away. “I’m trying to be serious!”  
  
“Me too! The authority _seriously_ turns me on!” He laughed, Iwaizumi retreated out of his own shirt and left Oikawa entangled in the material alone.  
Their laughter ran dry but their smiles were still open and wide - though Oikawa’s eyes were searching, as if committing his features to memory.  
  
“Our teams might still meet though,” Iwaizumi said hopefully, if only to lessen the urgency in Tooru’s expression.  
  
“Yep,” Oikawa hummed, snuggling deeper into the loose fabric of his sleep shirt until his shoulders bunched the material up tightly about his cheeks.  
  
“And I’m still going to defeat you.”  
  
“You can try,” Oikawa scoffed.  
  
Iwaizumi kissed him, though it felt more than a sigh, almost falling limp into Oikawa’s arms - where he knew he felt safest. His lips were warmer than the air about them, and more inviting too.  
  
He’d said it some time ago now, _we’ll be fine._ Iwaizumi hadn’t been certain then, how their relationship would develop.  
But he wasn’t afraid anymore - he loved Oikawa through the miles between them, the earth at their feet, the vast expanse of open air that separated them. He’d love him through a ten foot thick lead wall, he could feel Oikawa's heartbeat in his ears because it felt as though it were sync with own.  
  
Oikawa knew it too, in the changing of seasons all he could see was Iwaizumi’s eyes - the green in summer and brown in autumn, dark as the night in winter.  
But most of all he saw it in the stars - in their joint constellation and whatever little green men may or may not have been observing their rollercoaster relationship from lightyears away.  
  
Little did Iwaizumi know, he’d been wrong all those months ago.  
They weren’t going to just be _fine_ \- their future as individuals, as partners, and all they were going to achieve - they were going to be _amazing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading this - still trying to flex these ol' writing fingers so thank you for being so patient with me.  
> HUGE thanks to everyone who's left comments because y'all are SO sweet and really put me at ease.  
> i hope you enjoyed whatever this was!!


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